


Tis The Season: A Mystrade Advent Calendar

by scarletmanuka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar, But I Don't Care Because These Two Are Fucking Adorable Together, But There's Also Lots of Smut, Christmas, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Like So Much Fluff You'll Probably Want to Barf, M/M, So much fucking fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 39,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: Greg is a grinch and hates this time of the year. Mycroft decides to do something about that.





	1. Thursday, December 1

Christmas should be cancelled. Greg didn't care if it made him come across as being a grinch - it was a bloody stupid time of the year that made people be even more bloody stupid than they usually were. Which, if Sherlock’s opinion was given any weight, wouldn’t be hard, and for once, Greg found himself agreeing with the caustic genius. There was just something about the holiday season that made people lose what little common sense they had, not to mention their common decency.

Take for example the case they had been called out to today. A little old lady (okay, so maybe not so little but this was Greg’s narrative and he’d damn well take some creative liberties if he wanted to so shove your mulled wine up your arse) had been collecting money for the Salvos. She was dressed in her warm red coat, cheeks tinged pink from the cold, and a smile on her face from just having baked her grandkids gingerbread (probably). She was standing on a corner, rattling her tin, when some bastard hooligan decided he needed the few pounds of change more than the intended recipients, and he snatched it from her quavering, old hands (which in reality would have given Johnny Bench a run for his money but still, not the point). Instead of doing the smart thing and shaking an (abnormally large) fist in the air and shouting something about ‘the youth of today’, the not-so-little old lady did the more natural thing and chased after the lout, with the intention of taking him over her knee and giving him a thrashing. It had been a cold start to December, and the footpaths were quite icy and Grandma hadn’t been wearing skates. She’d slipped and been unable to regain her balance, sending her tumbling down a set of stairs. Probably quite comically was the fact that she collected the lout on her downward trajectory. What wasn’t funny was the fact she broke her neck as she landed and died before the ambulance could arrive. And to add more bastard to an already bastardy iced cake, the collection tin had slipped from the thief’s hand, only to be nicked by an even bigger bastard who happened to see the entire thing.

The whole incident had put Greg in a foul temper, and he’d delegated the task of informing the family to one of his sergeants. It was a duty he normally didn't shirk, but today he knew that seeing their grief would have propelled him to go out and buy a flaming torch and a pitchfork with which to go bastard hunting. Instead, he’d come back to the station, face like a thundercloud, and had slammed shut his office door, a clear indicator that he did not want to be disturbed. 

Once alone, he took a moment to just rest his face in his hands and close his eyes. He knew that some of his peevishness stemmed from the fact that Mycroft was away and he hadn’t heard from him in four days. His partner had been called away almost two weeks prior, and he’d had little opportunity to call home. When he had called, it was late morning and he sounded exhausted so he was obviously somewhere on the other side of the world. Greg had known going into their relationship that there would be gaps in his knowledge about Mycroft’s work, but it still stung when he couldn’t even be told where he was going. He wasn’t dumb, and could figure out a lot of it, but he couldn’t ask for confirmation either. It wasn’t overly bad when they could at least talk regularly - Mycroft couldn’t give details, but they could at least talk generically about his day, and he in return could hear about Greg’s. This silence though was driving him mental. He wasn’t clingy, and he did miss his partner, but when he went quiet, it worried Greg to no end. He’d seen the scars on his lover’s body, and was horrified at just how many there were. Most were old, and he knew the bureaucrat loathed fieldwork these days, but things could always go wrong and he wasn’t there to protect him. He knew Mycroft could take care of himself, but now they were a couple, it meant he didn't have to only rely on himself. Except for when he was somewhere on the other side of the world, doing God knows what, with fuck know’s who, with only static on the other end of the line. 

He wanted nothing more than to be able to go home, curl up in his lover’s embrace and talk out the day’s events. No one could listen to one of Greg’s rants like Mycroft could. And he never made the DI feel stupid or silly - he would analyse the complaint and pull from it the real reason at the core of his upset. He’d then talk it out with his lover, always managing to calm him down, without being condescending or dismissive. The fact that he would have his sexy body wrapped around Greg’s always helped as well, and once the therapy session was over, they both enjoyed the payment side of it very much.

After allowing himself a few minutes to wallow in self pity, Greg snapped himself out of it and started to get on with the paperwork from that morning. He ventured out to the break room to make a coffee, feeling slightly bad when one of his constables walked in to see him and let out a small shriek, before fleeing. He’d obviously been in a bad mood for longer than he’d thought - it had been a while since his own team were truly terrified of him. He made the decision to drop by her desk and apologise on his way back to his office, but stopped when he saw she had decked it out with a small Christmas tree, an Elf on the Shelf, reams of tinsel, and one of those plush singing Santa hats. 

Perhaps he’d let the fear fester a little longer…

An hour later and he was just finishing up his report when there was a knock on his office door. He called out for them to enter, not bothering to look up, but did when a shadow fell over his desk, blocking the light. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the biggest bouquet of red roses he had ever seen in his life. They appeared to be floating in mid air, before a face peeked around the edge of it. “Where can I put these down, mate? They’re bloody heavy!”

“Oh, right, sorry! Yeah, just put them here for now.” He quickly cleared a space on his desk and watched as the delivery man put them down with a grunt. 

“Cheers. Okay, well enjoy. And Merry Christmas!” The man left before Greg could get out from behind the desk and throttle him for his season greetings, and he was left alone.

There was a card attached and he plucked it from the bouquet, immediately recognising Mycroft’s handwriting on the envelope -  _ DI Gregory Lestrade: 1 _ . Despite his grumpiness, he felt a small smile tug at his lips. His partner never did anything by halves and yes, a quick count proved there were twenty four roses, not the standard dozen. He bent down and inhaled the sweet scent of the roses and then sat to read the card. It was also in Mycroft’s handwriting and he realised his lover had obviously planned this before he left since it wasn’t the usual typed message you got when ordering flowers over the phone or net.

_ My Dearest Gregory, _

_ I know that you find this time of the year a challenge, and you take little enjoyment in the festivities. As much as I understand your abhorrence of the bleating commercialism and holiday stupidity, I found that last year it pained me to see you this way. I missed your smile and laughter, and will do all that I can to have those delights as a constant companion this year. _

_ Therefore, each day leading up to Christmas, I have a surprise in store for you. Do not fear - they will not all be as extravagant as this floral arrangement - however, I do hope you will find them to your liking and they will bring that luminous smile to your face.  _

_ I love you, Gregory, and I want nothing else in this world but to make you happy.  _

_ Mycroft _

He leaned back in his chair, feeling his eyes moisten slightly. He hadn’t realised how his mood would have affected his partner. They’d only been together for six months last Christmas, but had known each other for years previously. Of course he would have noticed immediately the change in his demeanour. The younger man had told him numerous times that it was his smile and joy from life that he found so attractive in the DI, so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that it upset him when the Grinch had shown up in their bed come December.

Feeling torn between being upset that he had been such a prick, and overwhelmed at the thoughtfulness of his lover, he pulled out his phone. If he’d been forced to maintain radio silence, Mycroft probably wouldn’t get his text, but Greg wanted him to know when he did eventually read it that he had sent it immediately afterwards.

_ I love you, you magnificent bastard. You always know how to make me smile and I’m sorry I didn't do it much last Christmas. I promise to make up for that this year. _

There was a knock at the door and Sally’s grin was soon visible over the giant bouquet. “Someone’s a lucky boy!” she said with a wink. “Are these from your secret admirer? Hoping to make your boyfriend jealous?”

“Ha ha, Donovan. You know damn well who they’re from.”

“True - no one else would send flowers in such flamboyant style.”

“If there’s one thing my Mycroft has in spades, it’s style.”

She rolled her eyes. “You two are so in love it makes me sick.”

He smirked at her. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of course I am! These are amazing. If they’re too big for your office, I can always find room for them on my desk…”

“You know that’s never going to happen. Now, did you need something, or were you just coming in here to yank my chain?”

Her face turned serious. “We’ve got a body.”

He ran his hand through his hair and stood up. “Yeah, ‘course we do. Alright, let’s go.” With one last look at his gift, he followed her out, preparing himself for the grim task ahead.

oOoOo

It was 3am and his phone beeped with an incoming message.

_ You have no idea how happy that makes me, my dearest. Your smile gives me reason to continue when all else seems bleak. I love you, Gregory, more than life itself. M _


	2. Friday, December 2

It had been a long day. Greg had hardly gotten a wink of sleep the night previously, and they had no leads on the body of the young woman that had been pulled from the Thames the day before. Sherlock was refusing to even take a look at it, stating that it ‘wasn’t even a four’, and to be fair, Greg hadn’t expected anything else. The difficulty in this case was trying to identify the woman - until they’d done that, they would have little to go on. It looked to be a pretty clear cut crime of passion, and once they identified her, they’d most likely very quickly identify the murderer. There was little else they could do but continue searching all available databases and appeal to the public for help. 

Greg’s improved mood from the afternoon prior hadn’t lasted. As well as being tired and frustrated, he was missing Mycroft more and more. Other than the text very early that morning, he hadn’t heard anything, and he’d even considered trying to track down Anthea to try and get some information about when his partner would be coming home. Of course, then his team would be trying to track down  _ his _ murderer, and he was pretty sure Anthea wouldn’t leave behind any clues. If there was anyone more protective of Mycroft than Greg, it was his Blackberry obsessed assistant.

He got off work late as they were holding a press conference that afternoon to appeal for any information about their victim, and Greg seriously considered going straight to the pub. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have done just that - anything to avoid being alone in their big house with only echoes for company. He’d hoped that when they had discussed moving in together, they would have looked for a brand new place to share. Mycroft’s house had been in his family for generations though, and his mother and father had used their sweet and easy going natures to coerce Greg into moving in there instead. They took their family heritage very seriously and although they lived in a rather modest home in the country, they expected Mycroft to make use of one of the family houses. There was one awaiting Sherlock’s use as well, just as soon as he could prove he could stay clean.

And so he’d found himself moving his few scant possessions into the large house, most still in the boxes he’d packed in when he’d left his wife. He’d never quite gotten around to unpacking, and it had given his flat a very unlived in vibe. Mycroft had insisted they unpack that very afternoon, and it had been rather nice to know that his partner wanted Greg’s stamp on their home immediately. The fact that for months Mycroft had been secreting away small items of Greg’s to leave around the house had spoken volumes. The DI had never felt so wanted and welcome before in his whole life.

That feeling diminished somewhat when it was just himself at home. He was definitely attached to the place now, but it was because it was a space that he and Mycroft shared. When his tall redhead was away, it felt too empty and cold. Greg would spend most of his time in their bedroom, snuggled in their big bed curled around Mycroft’s pillow, reading a book. That was exactly what he was going to do that evening as well, but he might add a whiskey or three to the equation.

He pulled into the drive and ran through the light rain to the door. He stopped as he saw a note taped to the door, and he looked around nervously. His years as a copper had made him a little more suspicious and paranoid than a normal person, but that had also saved his arse more than a few times. Best to be a little cautious than dead in his opinion. Seeing no overt danger he stepped closer to the door and his heart flipped when he recognised the handwriting as Mycroft’s.

_ 2: Surprise! Come to the kitchen. _

Greg all but sprinted inside, dumping his coat on the couch as he flew past. He stopped short when he reached the kitchen, not sure if his eyes were deceiving him as he saw his lover leaning casually against the bench, a grin on his face.

“Myc? Are you really here or am I hallucinating?”

His lover crossed the room and took the older man in a strong embrace, nestling his cheek against his silver locks. “Worry not, my love, I am very real.”

Greg melted into the embrace, feeling himself begin to relax at finally being able to hold his love. He squeezed him tightly and then tilted his head a little to be able to capture Mycroft in a soft kiss. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Mycroft smiled softly and ran his nose back and forth across Greg’s cheek. “I believe actually that I do, for I missed you just as much.”

Greg took a step back, holding his partner at arms length and taking stock of what he saw. Mycroft looked absolutely exhausted and there were dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise he seemed healthy. The last of the tension drained from him as he confirmed that he wasn’t hurt or injured and he kissed him again, more fierce this time. Mycroft returned the kiss just as passionately, his hands pulling the tail of Greg’s shirt from his trousers and stroking softly at the skin of his back. 

They stood for some time, exchanging kisses and getting reacquainted, savouring the ability to just be close to each other. After a while, Mycroft pulled back from the kiss and lay a hand on Greg’s cheek. “Dinner will be ready shortly - did you want to shower beforehand?”

“Yeah, I’d better. It’s been a long day so I doubt my deodorant is still working very efficiently.”

It didn’t take long for Greg to shower and change into jeans and a jumper and he headed back to the kitchen. Mycroft wasn’t there so he went into the dining room and stopped dead in the doorway. The younger man was sitting at the table that had been decked out just as nicely as you’d see in any posh restaurant. There was a crisp linen tablecloth, a candelabra with five white candles glowing in the centre of the table, all laid out with their nicest silverware. He stood and crossed to Greg, handing him a single red rose. 

“This is amazing,” the DI said as he accepted the flower. “I just can’t...I mean, wow.”

Mycroft kissed his cheek and then held out a chair for him to sit, and took the one opposite. He took a bottle out of the ice bucket and poured them both a glass of wine, then held up his glass for a toast. “To you, my dear, for making coming home worthwhile.”

They clinked their glasses together and Greg couldn’t help the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Just having Mycroft home would have been enough, but this just made it all the more special. To be able to sit and talk, enjoy a nice meal and a drink, without being disturbed - it was what he’d been craving. 

After they finished, he took his exhausted lover to bed and held him close, listening as he fell asleep in his arms. It had been a long day, but it had a perfect ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is coming, I promise!


	3. Saturday, December 3

It was early the next morning when Greg was roused from his slumber by the slight shifting of his partner. He curled his arms instinctively tighter, holding the man close and not allowing him to get up

“Gregory, I have to go into work,” Mycroft murmured against his cheek.

“No, you only just got home. Can’t it wait until Monday?”

“Unfortunately not. I usually get the more urgent things cleared up as soon as I get back but last night my priority was getting home to you.”

Greg pouted and pulled out the puppy dog eyes. “How long will you be?”

Mycroft touched the extended bottom lip with his finger. “It shouldn’t take me too long - I predict I’ll be home no later than mid-afternoon. Then I shall be all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

“What am I going to do without you?” he grumbled.

The younger man laughed. “You are utterly adorable when you are discontent, my dear. I suggest you have a lie in, and then maybe meet up with some of your friends at the pub - your team are playing today are they not?”

“You have all the good ideas,” he said, giving Mycroft a quick kiss.

“Of course I do - I asked you out, didn't I?”

It was Greg’s turn to laugh. “That was one of your better ideas, that’s for sure. Okay, well go on then - go do what you have to do. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back. I’ll aim to be back here by three.”

“I shall make that my aim as well. Enjoy your morning, Gregory.”

“Will do. Love you, Myc.”

“And I you.”

Greg dozed for another hour and then went in search of some breakfast and coffee. He sent John a text, and agreed to meet up with the doctor at their favourite pub to catch the game and grab some lunch. He wiled away the morning doing some washing and reading a few chapters of his book and then headed out.

“Hey, mate, how are you?” John greeted him as they met each other outside.

“Yeah, good. You?”

“Sherlock’s being a little tosser today so I was very happy you messaged.”

Greg laughed and they headed inside and found a table, gesturing to the server for a couple of pints. “What’s he done now?”

John rolled his eyes. “He was doing an experiment involving intestines and acid and needed a ceramic bowl. He couldn’t be arsed taking two steps to the cupboard so he decided to use my favourite mug. I got up and went to make a cuppa only to find a slightly smoking, goopy mess greeting me.”

Greg shook his head as he laughed. “Don’t know how you put up with him.”

“Like you can talk - you’re dating his brother! I still can’t get over that.”

“You’re a bit slow, John. It’s been eighteen months.”

“That’s how much I’m struggling with it. I couldn’t imagine dating a Holmes.”

Greg put down his pint and gave his friend an appraising look. “You sure about that?”

The doctor blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Uh huh, _sure_ you don’t.” He decided to let the matter drop. He’d pushed John before on his obvious feelings for his flatmate but knew that he’d have to recognise them for himself. “Anyway, I’m not dating the crazy one. Mycroft is much easier to put up with than Sherlock.”

John snorted. “You do know he whisks people away in dark cars to abandoned warehouses instead of just picking up the phone, right?”

“How do you think we met? Besides, he still does it to me every now and then.”

“Really? You’d think if he needed to talk to you, he’d wait till you got home.”

Greg smirked. “We don’t go there to talk.”

“Oh. _Oh_!” John blushed an even deeper shade of red. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“If I was with a bird, you’d want all the details.”

“I’d probably want the details if you were with a different bloke, Greg. I just don't want the details about the British Government.”

“Why? Jealous I’ve got myself such a good shag?”

“Urgh! I can’t think of Mycroft like that.”

“Worried being an expert in bed runs in the family and you’re missing out?”

John glared at Greg. “For the last time, _I am not gay_.”

“Neither am I. Bloke can like both, you know.”

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“I’m going to love punching you in your smug face if you don’t shut it.”

He held up a hand in defence. “Okay, okay. No more mentioning what that leggy brunette would be like once you peeled off his immaculate suit and got him between the sheets.” He grinned cheekily and then winced as John’s fist connected with his arm.

oOoOo

The match was over and Greg and John were having another pint to celebrate their victory when his phone chirped. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was a message from Mycroft.

_3 - Waiting in our bedroom._

Greg swallowed and looked up at John. “I have to go.”

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, nothing bad. Just, something’s come up.”

“Okay, well you take care. Thanks for today.”

“You too, mate. It was fun.” He pulled on his coat and started his walk home. He tried to hurry as much as he could, but it was slippery and he really didn’t want to hobble home on a twisted ankle. The house was quiet when he got in and he headed straight up the stairs to their room. The sight that greeted him made his jaw drop.

Mycroft was on the bed. He was naked. He was blindfolded. And somehow, he had managed to handcuff himself to the headboard. Greg swallowed hard and started to unbutton his shirt. He then pulled off his trousers and pants, and climbed onto the bed. He trailed his fingers down the pale skin of Mycroft’s chest, tracing the scar from a bullet wound on his stomach, watching as his touch was chased by goosebumps. “Fuck me,” he gasped, watching as Mycroft’s long, slender cock jumped at the touch.

“I was rather hoping that’s what you’d do to me,” his lover replied.

He groaned and leaned over to press open mouthed kisses to Mycroft’s chest. “I’ve missed this so much,” he said. “Just being able to touch you, to make you gasp and beg, to watch your face as you come. You are so sexy, Myc, and I want you so much.”

“Kiss me?”

How could he resist? He positioned his legs so he was kneeling above the younger man and he gently cupped his cheek, and then pressed their lips together. Mycroft moaned against him, opening his mouth to allow Greg to press his tongue inside. It started off light and gentle but began to build until it was hard and heady. His other hand snaked down between them and he began to stroke Mycroft’s cock, swirling the moisture beading at the top around the head with his thumb.

“Gregory, _please_. Don’t make me wait.”

He smiled at how eager he was, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Two conditions - first, I’m taking my time to prepare you. It’s been too long since your last time and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mycroft shook his head. “I already took care of that.”

“ _Oh, really_? Did my Myc have a little fun on his own before I got home?”

Mycroft whimpered. “Not enough. I waited for you.”

“That’s my good boy,” he purred against his lover’s ear.

“What is the second condition?” the younger man asked, gasping as his lobe was bitten.

“I take this off,” Greg told him, touching the blindfold. “I want to be able to see you.”

Mycroft nodded and Greg slipped the blindfold off. His pale blue irises were almost completed obscured by his pupils, blown wide with lust. Greg smiled down at him and backed down the bed until he was resting between long thighs. He ran a finger lightly over Mycroft’s puckered entrance, feeling the slipperiness of the lube and the slight shiver that went through the lithe body beneath him. Lining himself up, he pushed slightly until he was sinking in, keeping it slow so his lover could adjust. He hooked his hands behind Mycroft’s knees and raised his legs until they were wrapped around his waist. A minute later he was almost fully seated and he began to thrust slowly, sinking deeper each time.

“Oh, you feel so good,” Mycroft said with a sigh, arching his back as he looked for contact.

Greg pressed kisses to his arms, feeling the taut muscles under his lips shake slightly. “You always feel so fucking amazing. But it’s always extra good when we’ve been parted.”

“I thought about you every night, Gregory. I would fall asleep and dream of you doing this to me.”

“I would lay here, holding your pillow because it still smelled like you, and would dream the same dreams. I hate when you have to leave, Myc. I hate that you’re not here with me.”

A single tear slid from Mycroft’s eye and disappeared into his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Greg slowed his pace and lay a hand against his lover’s cheek. “Hey, none of that. I didn’t say it to upset you, I just wanted you to know how much I missed you.” Mycroft could only nod, obviously not trusting himself to speak. Greg came to a complete stop and hovered above him. “Love, look at me.” He gave him a small smile when the younger man opened his eyes. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. I love you, and I’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

“I love you too, Gregory.”

He pressed kisses over every inch of Mycroft’s face and then wrapped his arms around his body, holding him close. He began to move again, whispering devoted words in his ear as they made love. The redhead gasped as Greg brushed his prostate, and he tried to find it as often as he could. Mycroft’s cock was trapped beneath them and he thrust against Greg, trying to find the friction he needed against their slick skin. He soon tensed and cried out, filling the space between them with his hot seed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come. You’re just fucking perfect, Myc.” Greg felt his own orgasm build rapidly as his lover constricted around him and soon he was crying out during his own release. They lay panting against each other for a moment, and then Greg slipped from the bed and went to retrieve a flannel to clean them both up with. He then found the key and undid the cuffs, gently kissing the red marks they’d left on Mycroft’s slender wrists. “That was wonderful, love. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Greg spooned behind Mycroft and buried his face into his neck. “I must admit, I’m rather liking this little project of yours.”

“I thought you might,” Mycroft replied with a soft laugh. “I do hope I can continue to surprise you.”

“I have no doubt that if anyone could continue to surprise me, it would be you.”

“Your confidence in my abilities is most heartening, my dear.”

“What can I say? You’re pretty damn amazing.”


	4. Sunday, December 4

They enjoyed a very lazy Sunday together. It was times like this that Greg truly treasured as it was rare that they got to spend a full day together over the weekend. Normally one of them would be called away - either Mycroft to deal with some international incident, or Greg because he was on call or they had so many homicides that the DI who was on call couldn’t deal with all of them. They hadn’t even been disturbed by a phone call, and that was a unicorn in itself.

Greg cooked them breakfast and then they donned coats and scarves and wandered down to the winter markets several streets away. It was rare for them to be out in public together in a purely personal way, and Greg was delighted when a gloved hand clasped his own. Mycroft was usually quite strict about public displays of affection - not because he was ashamed, but because he worried that it would make Greg a target of his enemies. Since they had moved in together, he had become much more relaxed about it since a kiss on the cheek or an affectionate gesture when out and about didn’t speak as loudly as living together; that the silver haired DI was very important to him. Greg had accepted that being involved with the politician could potentially come with risks, but since he put his life on the line every day when he went to work, he figured it wasn’t much of an added burden. 

They meandered through the stalls, Greg beaming the whole time as he was pulled along after his lover. They browsed for Christmas gifts, and Greg laughed for a whole five minutes when Mycroft triumphantly held up a horribly ugly garden gnome and announced that that was Anthea sorted. Apparently she had quite the collection in her small courtyard at home and once he’d finished chortling, the older man filed that information away to use next time she got cheeky with him. They stopped for a hot chocolate and as they drank them, Mycroft chatted with an older lady manning one of the stalls in a language Greg didn’t recognise. He later told Greg is was Estonian and the woman had been complimenting him on his very attractive partner. 

They got lunch from one of the vans before heading home, and soon they were ensconced on the large, comfortable couch in front of the fire with their books of choice. Greg settled himself between Mycroft’s long legs and leaned back against him, sighing as he relaxed.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed a day like this until now.”

“You’ve had a long week,” his lover said, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, but so have you.”

“And here I am, enjoying the day also.”

Greg chuckled. “You and your logic.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

“Nope, I love you just the way you are.”

Mycroft gave him a squeeze and they settled down to read their books, stopping occasionally to make a new cup of tea, or to share a few languid kisses. Once night had fallen, neither were prepared to bring their activity to an end so they made a quick bowl of pasta for dinner and continued to read. An hour later, Mycroft excused himself and headed upstairs, telling Greg firmly to stay where he was. He was so caught up in his novel that he just nodded and didn’t give any thought to what his lover was up to. 

Mycroft returned and plucked the book from Greg’s hands. He silenced the objection with a kiss and then pulled him from the couch and led him upstairs. He pushed open the bathroom door and smiled as Greg gasped. The bath was full to brimming, a host of white bubbles fizzing on top. The lights were off and the room was illuminated by several candles and soft music was playing in the background. The younger man turned him and began to undress him, and once he was naked, he pressed a kiss to Greg’s cheek. “Enjoy, my love.”

“Aren’t you joining me?”

Mycroft shook his head and smiled at him gently. “This is all for you. Take your time and relax, and enjoy number four.” He left, pulling the door closed behind him, and Greg climbed into the tub. The water was deliciously hot, just the way he liked it and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as he sank down into it. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done to deserve all of this, but his brain was melting into a big pile of relaxed mush so he didn’t dwell on it for long. 

He soaked for almost an hour, emptying a little water and topping it up with more hot halfway through. He was pruning nicely when he finally stepped out, and he yawned so wide that he jaw cracked. He didn’t bother redressing once he was dried off, just wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped through to the bedroom. Mycroft was sitting in bed, reading and he smiled when he saw the sleepy expression on his partner’s face. He lay down his book and patted the bed next to him, where the blankets had already been pulled back. “Lose the towel and come lie down on your stomach.”

Greg did as instructed, and he sank down onto the warm mattress. He felt Mycroft kneel above him and heard a slick noise as he rubbed his hands together. And then those hands were on his back, rubbing in a softly scented massage oil and kneading at his sore muscles. “Oh, fuck, that’s amazing,” he groaned.

“Shhh, just relax and enjoy, darling.”

For someone with such delicate hands, they were surprisingly strong and Mycroft expertly worked the knots from Greg’s muscles. Once he had done his back, he worked his way down one of his legs, soothing out the aches and pains that Greg didn’t even realise he had. By the time he worked his way back up the other one, the DI was beginning to drift off, completely lost in the bliss of the sensations. Mycroft worked his way again over his back and by the time he’d finished rubbing down his shoulders, Greg was snoring softly. He pressed a kiss to the middle of his back and then pulled the covers up over his lover, before turning off the light.


	5. Monday, December 5

If there was a better way to wake up on a Monday morning, Greg hadn’t found it. He was still feeling boneless after his night of relaxing, and he had a gorgeous redhead in his arms. He smiled as he watched Mycroft begin to wake up, enjoying the sight that no one but he ever got to see - the British Government, with sleep heavy eyes, tousled hair, and pillow creases on his cheeks. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said softly, kissing the tangled locks.

“Good morning, Gregory. Did you sleep well?”

“I had the best sleep I’ve had in I don’t know how long. Thank you, love.”

“I’m glad I could help you relax.”

Greg hummed. “Maybe we should just let the world hang and stay here in bed all day so we can continue our weekend.”

“What a delightful idea. Unfortunately I believe we wouldn’t get to enjoy much of it for Anthea would be breaking down the door and dragging me unceremoniously into the office.”

“Are you sure you’re her boss and not the other way round?”

“It does seem that way sometimes, does it not. She performs her role faultlessly.”

Greg snorted and kissed his lover, before climbing out of bed. “Better you than me.”

They dressed for their day, the DI pulling out the suit he wore when he had to attend court. 

He rather enjoyed the days he had to spend in court, either giving evidence or being there to witness the verdict. Most of the cases were ones he’d been involved in quite some time ago and it was heartening (mostly) to see the final product of the justice system. It was good to know that their hard work paid off and the bastards were being punished. Of course, it didn’t always end that way, but you were always going to have bad days.

Mycroft had to take a call and he was locked away in the study when Greg had to leave. He knew it must be important if the door was shut, but he couldn’t wait any longer just to say goodbye. He scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen counter, hoping that whatever the call was about wouldn’t keep his partner at the office all night.

He spent the morning watching the proceedings and was called to the stand after the break for lunch. He recounted the events of the investigation, answered a few questions (he’d honestly expected more) and then the court was dismissed for the day. He had finished up earlier than expected, and gave Sally a call to see if she needed him to come in. 

“Everything is under control here, boss. Go home, or do some shopping, or go to the pub - enjoy this very rare opportunity.”

“You’re in my office enjoying my roses, aren’t you?”

“They’ve all opened and the place smells amazing.”

“Cow.”

He could picture her grin. “Maybe you should have taken them home to enjoy.”

“I forgot I wasn’t going to be there today.”

“That’s your problem then, isn’t it?”

“I really hate you.”

“Ask your boyfriend for more, I’m sure he’d oblige.”

“If you’re not careful I’ll ask him to arrange a hit for me. One less annoying sergeant to worry about.”

“You’d miss me too much.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Seriously, go and enjoy your afternoon. Opportunities like this don’t happen very often.”

“Yeah. alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Will do, boss.”

He decided that he may as well use the time to look for a Christmas present for Mycroft since he always struggled with gift ideas for his partner. Honestly, what  _ did _ you get the person who really did have everything? Not that Mycroft was frivolous - he just didn't want for much and anything that took his fancy he usually acquired in a timely manner. He usually stuck with items that were practical but would cause his lover to think of him when he used them, such as cufflinks or tie pins. He always felt a warm little glow in his chest when he saw Mycroft chose those adornments for his working day, knowing he was taking a little piece of Greg to the office with him. 

He headed to the nearest shopping precinct and was glad that he had decided to go now. It was very quiet, owing to the fact it was still early December and a Monday afternoon to boot. He found the perfect gift only an hour into his search and he gave himself a little pat on the back. It was a Dupont pen, one of the mid-range ones that was heavily discounted. As much as he knew Mycroft would love it, he wasn’t going to spend five hundred quid on a damn pen. His salary stretched a lot further these days since he wasn’t dropping almost half of it on rent, but he still wasn’t rolling in it. He did find a lovely blue silk tie that he thought would bring out the stormy blue of his partner’s eyes, so he decided to get that as well. 

His phone chirped and he grinned when he saw it was a text from Mycroft. His lover had hated texting when they had first begun seeing each other, but had grown fonder of it when he realised it was easier to stay in touch than placing a call. Both of their days could be hectic and when they were first together and caught up in the whirlwind of a new relationship, neither had wanted to go a whole day without being in contact. Mycroft had quickly embraced the medium, ensuring full punctuation and correct grammar were used of course.

_ I find myself home early. Do you know what time you’ll be finishing up? M _

Greg was already heading back to where he’d parked his car. 

_ I finished early too. Just popped to the shops, heading home now. Be about half an hour. _

_ Excellent. 5 awaits you. M _

If his steps to the car became a little more rushed, could anyone blame him? Greg was grinning as he hurried, wondering just what his surprise would be. If every holiday season was like this, he could really start to enjoy it.

oOoOo

Greg didn’t even get a step in the door before Mycroft had pounced on him. He was pulled inside, the door slammed shut and he was shoved up against the back of it. Firm lips were pressed against his and a hand was unbuckling his belt. His body reacted quickly to the forceful actions of his partner and by the time Mycroft sank to his knees, taking Greg’s trousers and boxers down with him, he was standing proudly to attention.

Mycroft swallowed him down quickly, his tongue working against the sensitive skin as he slipped in and out of his mouth. Greg’s head rolled back and his eyes closed at the fucking  _ amazing _ feeling of the younger man’s mouth. The pace he set was hot and frantic and he wasn’t allowing any time for teasing. It was needy and desperate and they were both making little gasping sounds as Greg grew closer and closer.

It was less than a minute later that he was crying out and spilling himself down the back of Mycroft’s throat. Greg leaned against the door, panting as he caught his breath, and Mycroft pulled his clothes back up, tucked him in, and re-buckled his belt. He then gave the DI a kiss, who chased after his own taste with his tongue, finding nothing hotter than when Mycroft blew him. 

“I hope you enjoyed number five,” his lover growled into his ear.

“Five was fucking fantastic,” he replied breathlessly. 

“Wonderful. I do aim to please.”

 


	6. Tuesday, December 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and gooey today

It wasn’t long after midnight that Mycroft’s phone rang and he left the room to take the call. Greg lay there in a state between dozing and wakefulness, waiting to see if his partner would have to leave or could come back to bed where it was toasty and warm. When he came back into the room only a few scant minutes later, he knew that it was the former. Nothing was ever fixed over the phone so quickly.

“Have to go in?”

The bed dipped as Mycroft sat next to him, and a cool hand touched his cheek. “Correct as usual, my love. The matter from yesterday has escalated and it cannot wait I’m afraid.”

“Will you be leaving again?”

“Not if I can help it, but I fear I may not see the outside of my office for at least twenty four hours.”

Greg made a rude noise. “You won’t be any good to them if you don’t get any sleep.”

“You know I am more than accustomed to going for long periods of time without sleep. I shall be fine. I do apologise for interrupting your rest though.”

“ ’sfine. I know you gotta go. Keep I touch though? Even if it’s just to say hello.”

“Of course. Go back to sleep, Gregory.”

There was the press of lips to his forehead and Greg snuggled deeper into the blankets, hoping for sleep to find him again. He had very quickly gotten accustomed to falling asleep with someone else in the bed, or at least knowing they’d be joining him later. He wiggled over to the warm space his partner had left behind and cuddled his pillow to him, and it was enough to allow him to drift back off.

oOoOo

The following morning they got a lead on their Jane Doe, discovering her name was Joy Chanders. Her neighbour had grown suspicious when she realised she hadn’t seen the woman for almost a week and she looked very similar to the sketch she’d seen on the telly. They visited her flat, startling her boyfriend who scarpered, and when they chased him down he confessed almost immediately. Greg was not only happy that they’d finally solved the thing, but that Sherlock had refused to help. It turned out to not even be a four, and the acerbic detective would have complained to no end about his time being wasted.

Greg and Sally took the opportunity before finishing their paperwork to grab some lunch at a nearby café.

“I gotta say, you’re looking much chirpier this year,” she told him as they dug into their food.

“Hmmm? What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean – Greg the Grinch has hardly made an appearance this year.”

He couldn’t keep the slight blush from his cheeks. “Greg the Grinch has been otherwise occupied this year.”

Sally gave him a long look. “I never thought I’d be thankful to a Holmes, but next time I see your bloke I’m going to give him a pat on the back. He’s made this year much nicer for everyone around here. Should I ask what he’s been doing or do I not want to know?”

Greg blushed even harder and tried his best to ignore the smirk that lit up her face. “It’s not  _ all _ like that. He sent me the flowers, and made dinner, and has just been doing a heap of little romantic things. Something different each day and I can expect a surprise a day leading up till Christmas.”

She shook her head in awe. “You’re a complete bastard at times – how did you get so lucky?”

“I honestly don’t know but I’m not going to do anything to jinx it.”

Her eyes softened. “Really though, Greg – I’m happy for you. You deserve someone who treats you right after that troll of an ex.”

He nodded, unable to do anything else but agree. They finished up and headed back to the office and when he looked at his phone he saw he had a message from Mycroft.

_ Going to be here till rather late. Best not to wait up for me. M _

He sighed as he read the message but understood it was just as hard for Mycroft to be away so much as it was for him. And it’s not like it wasn’t ever Greg being the one cancelling plans or being gone overnight. Both their jobs were tough on a relationship and he’d found he had to work harder than with anyone else to make time for his partner. Mycroft made all that hard work worth it though – he was more special than anyone Greg had ever been with. He’d move mountains and put out the sun if that’s what it took to be with this wonderful man.

_ I understand completely. Thanks for giving me the heads up. Promise me you’ll eat something tonight? _

He could just picture the nose crinkle that the younger man would do when he read the last part. He was very much like his brother in regards to opinions on food and rest when busy, which boiled down to ‘it can wait till it’s over’. Greg took every opportunity to remind Mycroft of the importance of eating a proper meal and seeing at least a few hours of actual sleep when the shit had hit the fan.

_ Only because you asked so nicely. M _

Greg gave himself a mental pat on the back for the win and got on with his paperwork.

oOoOo

Knowing there would be no one waiting for him when he got home, Greg put in a few extra hours at the office. He had performance appraisals coming up and he always seemed to take an age to do them for his team. He started a new file and wrote up notes about everyone under him, trying to get most of the work done now so when they were due, he could simply copy and paste the comments into the correct sections. Feeling rather happy with his accomplishments, he turned off his office light and made his way home.

When he got in, he didn’t even bother heading upstairs to get changed, just made a toasted sandwich for dinner and ate at the kitchen bench. He tidied away his few dishes and decided he’d have a shower and head straight to bed to read for a couple of hours. He took his time in the bathroom, the hot water feeling much too nice to be rushed. It was getting colder, and although the house had very efficient heating, his body seemed to know it was freezing outside and convinced him to stay in the warmth a little longer.

He towelled off and threw on his dressing gown, then headed into the bedroom. He went to pull back the covers and saw a new pillow on the bed, one he hadn’t seen before. There was a note pinned to it with the number 6 at the top. Underneath was written:  _ Because you like to cuddle when you fall asleep and I can’t be there.  _ Looking closely, he realised that the pillowcase was made out of one of Mycroft’s shirts. He brought it up to his nose and breathed in, smelling the familiar scent of his lover’s cologne. A silly smile spread over his face and he climbed into bed and held the pillow close. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

_ I love my Mycroft substitute almost as much as I love my Mycroft. _

He had finished reading three chapters when he got a reply.

_ I’ll try not to be too jealous. Sleep well my dear. M _   



	7. Wednesday, December 7

Mycroft had gotten in after midnight and Greg had woken with a gasp as cold feet had found his. “Gah! You bloody bastard!”

His partner chuckled throatily in his ear and curled around him. “You’re always deliciously warm, Gregory and it’s a very cold night.”

“Do that again and I’ll boot your arse to the curb and you’ll find out just how cold sleeping on the streets can be.”

A kiss was pressed to his throat. “Apologies. I truly didn't mean to wake you - I just wanted to be near to you.”

The older man shifted so he could wrap his arms around Mycroft and he pulled him close. “I guess I can forgive you then. I missed falling asleep with you.”

“I wish we had more opportunities for such a thing. It distresses me greatly that our work keeps both of us apart so often at that time of night.”

“Me too. But we knew that it was going to be hard when we got into this, so we just have to take advantage of the times we do get.”

Mycroft’s lips found Greg’s in the dark and they shared a lingering kiss. “An excellent suggestion, my dear. Now please, do not let me keep you from sleep any longer.”

“Night, Myc. Love you.” Greg wiggled closer into his lover’s embrace, enjoying the contact as he drifted back to sleep.

oOoOo

A hand slammed down on the alarm as the first tone sounded, silencing the contraption before it could wake the redhead sleeping soundly next to him. Greg crawled out of bed and made his way through the dark bedroom to the bathroom, only turning on the light when the door was shut. Mycroft worked such long hours and he needed all the sleep he could get. The last thing Greg wanted was for him to be woken by the harsh glare of a lightbulb.

He stripped out of his pyjamas and turned the shower on, waiting for it to get nice and hot before he stepped under the spray. He closed his eyes as the water washed over him, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as it adjusted to the hot water after being in the cold morning air.

A minute or so later he decided it was time to actually get clean and he turned to find the shower gel. The hot water was making the glass of the shower screen begin to fog up, and as he watched, Greg saw something begin to appear on the glass. At some point earlier, traced with a finger most likely, was the number 7. He looked over as the door to the bathroom opened and Mycroft entered, sliding the shower door open and joining him under the water.  “What’s this then?” he asked with a grin.

Mycroft wrapped his arms around his waist. “I am quite aware of your fondness for shower sex, Gregory. I thought it would be a rather nice surprise for you this morning.”

“How can one person know me so well?” He nipped at his lover’s neck, delighting in the soft moan it elicited.

“It is not hard to deduce, my dear. Besides the fact that you have shown an abundance of enthusiasm for our past dalliances in this very space, you also orate long and loud on the benefits of partaking in such activities in said space.”

Greg’s grin was downright lascivious. “You mean we get to do all kinds of dirty things and then get to clean up without moving a step in any direction?”

“That does appear to be the gist of your manifesto.”

“Well then, Mr Holmes, by all means - do dirty, dirty things to me.”

Mycroft moved a hand to cup behind his head and pulled him in for a hard kiss, his tongue pushing between his lips to tease with his. Greg gasped as he was spun and pushed against the wall, and Mycroft reached around him and picked up the bottle of conditioner. He squirted a generous amount onto his hand and rubbed it between the older man’s thighs. He nudged his legs closed and then pushed his hard cock into the tight space, sliding between his legs. Greg groaned as the tip of Mycroft’s cock dragged along the bottom of his balls and then the base of his shaft. His own cock was hard and aching and he reached down to take himself in hand. Before he could touch, his wrist was grasped and brought up to the wall above his head. His other arm was also captured to join the first and they were pinned at the wrist in one slender hand. “No touching yourself,” Mycroft whispered in his ear. “It is _I_ who gets to do dirty things to you, so just enjoy the ride.”

Greg moaned as Mycroft’s other hand reached around and wrapped around his cock, stroking him firmly. The taller man continued to thrust between his legs, and the combined sensations of hand and cock rubbing against Greg’s most sensitive skin was enough to make his knees start to tremble. “Oh fuck, that feels amazing.” He was so close already - no one had ever gotten him so worked up, so quickly, like Mycroft did. He found the younger man so damn sexy that he’d once come just from watching him undress. The way his body responded to a look, a touch, or even the sound of his voice was unbelievable.

Mycroft’s hand slipped downwards and squeezed firmly around the base of Greg’s cock, easing the buildup of his orgasm. He slowed his own movements, rocking up onto his tiptoes as he pulled back so his erection dragged ever so slowly back along his lover’s balls, along his perineum, and up between his cheeks. He pressed teasingly against the tight hole, and then slipped his way back down and thrust again between his legs. “You are simply beyond compare, my love,” he murmured against Greg’s neck as he nuzzled the soft skin there.

“And you’re bloody fantastic. I want you so much, Myc.”

“I suppose it would be unkind of me to make you wait then.”

“It would. No one wants to shower with a right prick.”

Mycroft pressed open mouthed kisses around Greg’s neck as he began to stroke him again, as well as increasing his thrusts. His kisses turned to nips, and then as his thrusts got faster and faster, and Greg’s breathing got more and more irregular, he bit hard and started to suck.

“Oh fuck, yes, there, right there, that’s it, fuck!” Greg cried out as he spurted hot semen over Mycroft’s hand and the shower wall and, as his muscles trembled with the force of his orgasm, his legs clamped closed. Mycroft gasped at the additional pressure and then he too was crying out, coating his lover’s legs with his own release.

Greg leaned forward to rest his head on his arms, and he felt Mycroft lean against his back. He laughed and twisted his head to give the younger man a kiss. “That was a bloody nice way to start the day. Thanks, love.”

Mycroft kissed him back and then kissed the dark purple mark he’d left on his beloved’s shoulder. “It appears my cunning plan has worked.”

“I’m always happy to be part of your cunning plans. Tell me though - does one of them involve passing me the shower gel? I swear that water and semen combined form a substance stronger than glue.”

“Are you legs stuck together?”

“Maybe…”


	8. Thursday, December 8

Greg’s morning was going smashingly. There had been no bodies turn up, Sherlock hadn’t nagged him once for a new case, and he’d had a great night’s sleep, mostly because his partner had been there for the entire time. He was spending the morning getting as up to date with his paperwork as he could and by the time he was ready to stop for a morning tea break, he was feeling pretty accomplished.

There was a knock at the door and a delivery man popped his head inside. “DI Lestrade?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

The man smiled and popped a small white box on the desk and handed Greg a clipboard with a docket to sign. He then nodded and left and Greg pulled the box over to him. There was an envelope on the front that he was beginning to recognise with the number eight written on it. He pulled the envelope free and revealed a sticker on the box declaring it to be from his favourite café. He peeked inside the box before reading the note and saw it was a slice of Black Forest cake. Intrigued, he slipped the paper from the envelope, noting there were several sheets instead of the usual one.

_ Gregory, _

_ Five years, seven months, and thirteen days ago we had a meeting at The Briar Café to discuss one of Sherlock’s more boisterous invasions of a crime scene. You had already taken him under your wing, but he had pushed the boundaries so far that I was expecting you to declare your intent to wash your hands of him entirely. Instead, you surprised me. You went to the counter and ordered both of us the strongest coffee they made and two slices of their Black Forest cake, telling me that we both needed a treat for having to put up with his ‘bastardly ways’. _

_ It was that day that I first realised that I had feelings for you. No one else had ever given my brother the time of day, or been so accommodating to his demands. And yet you embraced him and taught him that not everyone would push him away. You also embraced me – you never dismissed my concerns for Sherlock, even if I didn’t express them as a normal person would. You also hastened to assure me that he wasn’t pushing you further than you could cope with, and that you actually enjoyed having him in your life. _

_ From the first time I met you, I had been physically attracted to you. But it was that day when I truly understood how special you were - your patience, fortitude, understanding, and willingness to adapt to anything thrown at you, all the while keeping that smile on your face were everything I wanted in a partner. By the time we shook hands and went our separate ways, I knew that you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. If I couldn’t have you, then I didn’t want anyone else because no one would ever be as perfect as you. _

_ I’m not even sure if you remember that particular meeting, or if it’s blurred into one with the countless others we’d had to discuss my brother’s antics, but I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me. Whenever I go past The Briar, I always find myself stopping for a slice of their Black Forest cake, and each time, I think of you. I hope that as you enjoy this for your morning tea, you’ll think of me. _

_ With all my love, _

_ Mycroft _

Greg read the note over, and then for a third time, wiping a little at his eyes. He  _ did _ remember that day – remembered feeling a comradeship with Mycroft as the two people in the world who had been thrown together to try and keep the whirlwind known as Sherlock Holmes from wreaking too much carnage. He’d still been with his wife at that point, and so he’d not had any inappropriate thoughts about the man he’d shared a little respite with, but he couldn’t deny the connection between them was already growing. It had continued to grow over the next few years, and after he’d separated from his wife, he’d found himself enjoying their impromptu meetings more than he’d expected too. When Mycroft had asked him out for a drink, he hadn’t hesitated even for a second before accepting. As hard as their relationship was at times, Greg had never regretted it even for a moment, and was thankful every day that he had someone as caring and thoughtful as Mycroft in his life.

He unfolded the box and ripped open the plastic covering the disposable fork that was tucked inside. He scooped up some of the cake and enjoyed the rich taste, savouring the bite. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the slice and popped it into a message.

_ I’m enjoying my morning tea very much, thanks. And I do remember that day...I’m just glad you had the patience to wait for me to get my life sorted. _

He’d almost finished the cake by the time he got a reply back.

_ I would have waited till the end of days for you. M _

No matter how many times he professed such a thing, Greg never got sick of hearing it. He always felt a warm glow inside at knowing just how much he meant to his magnificent partner. He just hoped that Mycroft could look beyond the simpler terms he used to see that he felt the same.

_ I love you too. _


	9. Friday, December 9

The black town car pulled up outside of the station and Greg knew, without even looking, that everyone who was standing outside whipped their heads around to see who was going to get out. “I do wish your driver would consider dropping me round the corner,” he grumbled as he gave Mycroft a peck on the cheek goodbye.

“Apologies, I didn’t realise you were a grumpy teen being dropped off at school.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. When I’m seen getting dropped at work in a fancy car, I get ribbed even harder for being with a posh gent like you.”

Mycroft smirked. “Do you wish to reconsider your phrasing?”

Greg swatted his lover’s arm. “You have such a dirty mind, Mr Holmes. I’m beginning to think it’s  _ you _ who didn’t grow up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the politician declared, though his eyes were still twinkling with childish mirth.

“Liar.” Greg kissed him again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Most certainly. Let me know when you’re finishing up and I’ll send the car.”

“I can just catch the tube, Myc.”

“No, you can’t. Not tonight, in any case.”

“Oh really? Would skipping a ride mean I’d miss out on something...surprising?”

“Perhaps…”

He laughed and kissed his partner’s flushed cheek. “I look forward to it then. Have a good day, love.”

Sally had seen the car pull up when she’d arrived and had waited for Greg. “Morning, boss. Getting used to the life of leisure then?”

“Shut it, Donovan. My car has had to go in for some work.”

“And you’re a lazy git who enjoys being chauffeured around.”

“You do know I’ve not done your appraisal yet, right?”

“Yes but if you make me look bad,  _ you’ll  _ look bad and you wouldn’t want that.”

“Fine, you’ve got a point. But I can always find other ways to make your life miserable.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Actually, yeah, and you’d be a right bastard about it too. Okay, shutting up now.”

“You’re a clever girl, Sal - always know when to strategically retreat.”

“Because I know you’ll sic Sherlock on me.”

“Fate worse than death?”

“Worse than anything.”

oOoOo

They were kept busy that day by a call to a domestic dispute gone bad. Though Greg was of the opinion that if there was a dispute happening, it had already gone bad. He thought the term should be ‘gone worse’. They arrived at the tiny flat to find a waif of a woman cowering in the corner of the living room, several children clustered around her, and the body of her husband in the kitchen. Both wife and children were covered in bruises, some fading away, others very fresh, and the deceased’s grazed knuckles were a match to the split lip and black eye the woman was sporting. 

“Looks like a pretty clear cut case of self defence,” Sally murmured as they took in the scene.

Greg nodded. “Make sure we document everything that will help support that claim.”

Her eyes lingered on the terrified children and the look of utter relief on the wife’s face that spoke louder than words that no matter what happened next, the worst part of the nightmare was over. “Got it.”

Then came the part of the job that everyone hated. There was still a body, and however beaten and abused, the woman admitted to being the one to have put the knife in his ribs. After arranging for social services to come and collect the kids, Greg took the woman into custody, who came without complaint. He just hoped that her case could be pushed through the system fairly quickly. Who knew - maybe there would be a Christmas miracle and she’d be released in time to spend the holiday with her kids.

By the time Greg messaged Mycroft and asked to be picked up, he was emotionally exhausted and more than ready to go home. He waited out the front in the cold, not caring enough to button his jacket as it whipped about in the wind, chilling his core. He was so lost in thought that the car had pulled up and Mycroft had gotten out and was laying a hand on his cheek before he realised what was happening.

“Bad day?” his partner asked quietly.

Greg could only nod, grateful that the younger man had the knack of being able to take one look at him and know almost exactly what had happened. He led him to the car and bundled him inside, and Greg distantly heard him instruct the driver to take them home, albeit by an indirect route. 

“I’m going to help you clear your mind and forget about today, even if it’s just for a little while. Is that alright with you?”

He looked into the concerned blue eyes of his partner and saw naught but love and devotion there. He nodded, trusting him to take care of him, and Mycroft hit the button that raised the privacy screen between the front and back of the car. He then removed Greg’s coat and pushed him back against the seat and began to unbutton his shirt. He kissed his way down the DI’s chest, his talented tongue swirling over his nipples, forming small, sensitive peaks. Greg sighed at the sensation, focussing his whole mind on what his lover was doing. 

Mycroft trailed his fingers down over his legs, rubbing circles through the fabric of his trousers, finding the spot on Greg’s thighs that sent the blood rushing to his cock. A slender hand cupped his growing bulge and began to palm at him, making him harder and harder. He let his head roll back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to just feel everything Mycroft did to him. It was dark outside and with the heavily tinted windows, he had little worry that they’d be seen. As his trousers were unbuttoned and pushed down his legs, he found he didn’t even care if anyone saw them - all he cared about was the hands and lips and tongue that were working him like a lute.

He jerked as he felt that tongue lick a stripe up his cock and then let out a quiet moan as wet warmth was wrapped around the crown. Mycroft was the most talented person he’d ever been with and he did things with that mouth of his that should be illegal. Greg curled a hand into his lover’s hair, using the contact to try and ground himself as his pleasure grew and grew. The car slowed to a halt and he looked out of the windows to see they were at a red light. A car full of twenty-somethings pulled up next to them, windows down despite the cold, showing off that they were all dolled up for a night on the town. Greg watched them chat and laugh, oblivious to the sordid act that was going on just a short distance away behind dark glass. Some part of his lust filled mind wished that they could see, could watch what Mycroft was doing to him, to know how erotic the Iceman could be when he was behind closed doors. The thought of them being watched, along with the skilled ministrations of his partner pushed him over the edge and he came with a bitten off curse. Mycroft sucked him down greedily, and licked him clean. 

Feeling boneless, Greg slumped in the seat, releasing his grip in the auburn hair he adored so much and dropping his fingers to trace his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Mycroft nuzzled against his thigh, and Greg marvelled at how elegant he managed to look, even when folded up and hunched over him on the back seat. The car jolted slightly as the light changed to green and they took that as their cue to put themselves back to rights. 

A few minutes later they were pulling up in front of their house and Greg almost floated to the front door. His mind was lovely and blank and all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch with his lover and give him his own surprise to say thanks for number nine.

 


	10. Saturday, December 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice long one for you today :)

Greg woke early on Saturday morning and decided to make use of the time to start breakfast. Mycroft was spoiling him rotten and he wanted to make sure his partner knew just how much he appreciated it. Cooking a nice meal to wake up to was the very least he could do, and luckily, something he was quite good at. He raided the fridge and pulled out all the ingredients he’d need for omelettes and pancakes and got cooking.

When he’d almost finished, he got a pot of tea brewing and then packed everything onto a large tray to carry upstairs. Mycroft was just stirring when he entered their bedroom and he set the tray down on the side table so he could kiss his lover fully awake.

“Mmmm, to what do I owe this pleasure?” his redhead asked once the kiss was over. His voice was sleepy and he’d be mortified if he ever found out that Greg found it absolutely adorable. That was something the DI was more than happy to keep to himself. 

“Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Mycroft hummed happily and pulled Greg in for another kiss. “Kisses are always nice,” he agreed.

“There’s more than just kisses - though you can have as many of those as you’d like. I also made you some brekkie.”

“I thought my nose detected something mouthwatering.”

“Your nose would be right.” Greg stood and collected the tray, nestling it on the bed between them. He handed over a full plate to his partner and then poured him a cup of tea just the way he liked it.

“Gregory, truly you spoil me.”

“My Mycroft deserves a bit of spoiling now and then. Actually, you deserve it  _ all _ the time - I’m actually a really shite partner who doesn’t do this often enough for you.”

“You do it more than enough. This is wonderful - thank you.”

They ate in a companionable silence, just enjoying the quiet. Greg’s phone chirped with an incoming message and he frowned as he retrieved it from the bedside table. It couldn’t be work because they would phone, and it was too early to be most of his friends. He was surprised, and slightly worried, when he saw it was from John.

_ I know it’s stupid o’clock and you’re probably trying to have a lie in but I really need to talk. Any chance we could meet for a coffee? _

“Is anything wrong, Gregory?” Mycroft asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Greg shrugged and showed him the message. “No idea what’s going on. Did you have plans for us this morning? I don’t want to ruin one of your surprises.”

“Your surprise for today is not time dependant, and I had been planning on sharing it with you this evening if that suited you. By all means you should meet with John for coffee.”

Greg gave him a kiss. “Thanks, love.”

He sent John a text back and less than an hour later they were meeting in a cafe midway between their homes. The army doctor looked pale and tired, and was sporting dark circles under his eyes. He chewed on his lip and avoided Greg’s eye as they ordered their drinks, and didn't say a word until their coffees were in front of them.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on? I gotta admit, John, you’ve got me a bit worried.”

He huffed out a sigh and fiddled with the sugar packets. “It’s Sherlock,” he finally said.

Greg was sure his stomach sank to his toes. “He’s relapsed?”

“What? No! Jesus, no, nothing like that.”

The DI breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his silver locks. “Thank fuck for that. Okay, so what is it then? Is he hurt? Injured? In trouble?”

John shook his head to each of them and swallowed hard. “No. He...he kissed me.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

“Pretty sure you have a handle on it.”

“So, um...what kind of kiss?”

John glared at him. “What kind do you think? He wasn’t being an old fashioned gentleman and took my hand to kiss.”

“Calm down, John. It’s a valid question. Was it just a peck? How long did it last? What led up to it? How did he react? How did  _ you _ react? I kind of need details if you want me to be able to help.”

John rubbed at his eyes. “Okay, yep, you’re right, sorry.” He threw a sheepish look at Greg. “This is kind of hard to talk about. It took me by surprise.”

“Then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. I  _ told _ you there’s been something between you two!”

“I know you did! But there’s a difference between bandying about an idea and having your flatmate snog you silly in the kitchen!” He glared at the two old ladies at the table next to them who threw him scandalised glances. “I know you’ve been going on about this for ages, Greg,” he continued in a quieter voice. “But I guess I just never really expected anything to actually happen. It’s  _ Sherlock _ for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that much. It was surprise enough when he accepted you as a friend, let alone contemplating he’d want to shag you.” He held up a placating hand as John turned his glare on him. “Sorry, sorry. Look, first things first - is this something you want? And I need you to be brutally honest. If you say no and we try to go into damage control to salvage your friendship, it’s going to make things awkward if you later start pining.”

“You really have a way with words, you know that?”

“I guess Mycroft is rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, not thinking about that!”

Greg laughed and took a sip of his coffee as he watched his friend think seriously about the question.

“I suppose, if I’m honest, it is something I would like to explore further. It’s hard for me to even contemplate though because I’ve never been with a man before - hell, I’ve never even been attracted to one before. I really, honestly, thought I was straight. But if I don’t think about that part, and just think about Sherlock as a person, well then yeah, he is someone I would like to be more intimately involved with.”

“And you’d be able to put up with his crazy?”

John huffed out a laugh. “I reckon so. I’ve been putting up with it for a good long while now. I think I’ve built up a bit of an immunity.”

“Alright, so what actually happened?”

“We’d been out for the night. He was bored and had spent the afternoon dithering around being a pain in the arse. I got sick of it and told him we were heading out somewhere for tea since I didn't want to be cooped up with him being a git anymore.”

“Sounds like a promising start to a relationship…”

John gave Greg the finger and continued. “ _ Anyway _ , we ended up at Angelo’s and we had quite a nice meal, and since we always get a nice discount there, I decided I wanted a couple of drinks. I was a bit shocked that Sherlock said he did as well, but a couple turned into a few, and then into a lot, and by the time we left we were roaring drunk. We staggered home and I figured a cup of tea would be a good idea. I was putting the kettle on and I turned around to ask if Sherlock wanted one and he was  _ right there _ . Suddenly he was kissing me - and it wasn’t just a peck, it was the best goddamn snog I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t know where he learned to kiss like that because I didn't think he had any experience with, you know, this sort of thing, unless he’s just a natural. Which wouldn’t surprise me actually...anyway, it went on until the kettle finished boiling and then the whistle went off and kind of startled us apart. I saw the moment Sherlock freaked out and then he was just gone. He’s not answered any of my texts or phone calls, and I’ve not been able to find him anywhere. I gave up looking at about 3am and figured he’d come home when he calmed down.”

“Do you think, once he’s calmed down, that  _ he _ will want to continue it?”

Worry darkened John’s eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not? I just have no idea. It’s almost like he deliberately got drunk to get some dutch courage, which would mean he’d thought about it while sober, but then why run off?”

“He’s new to this. I remember how scared I was when I was a teenager and back then  _ everyone  _ else was in the same boat. I imagine it’s a lot scarier when you’re his age and trying to figure it all out when almost everyone else is experienced.”

“I guess. So what should I do?”

Greg shrugged and drained the last dregs of his coffee. “Not much you can do, mate. Just give him time. He’ll come home eventually and you can talk to him. He might not want to talk and you’ll have to respect that, but that doesn’t mean that  _ you _ can’t tell him how you feel. Be honest and tell him that you want to explore it and you’ll go at his pace, but if he’s not interested then that’s okay as well. If he’s not, then it’s going to suck being you, but I guess you’ll have to figure out if you can still be friends with him while you still carry a torch.”

John let his head bang onto the table. “Urgh, this is the worst day of my life.”

“Cheer up - it might also be your best.” As he watched his friend struggle with his predicament, Greg hoped against hope that the two flatmates could figure it out. Being with a Holmes was challenging but also the best thing he’d ever done, and he hoped John would get the chance to see that with his very own Holmes.

oOoOo

It had been several minutes and Mycroft still hadn’t said anything. In fact, he’d done little but sit there and look stunned. Greg decided to take pity on his poor partner and crossed to the liquor cabinet to pour him a whiskey. He returned to the couch and handed it over, making sure the younger man was actually holding onto it before he let it go.

“Mycroft, you’re beginning to freak me out. Please tell me this news hasn’t broken you?” 

“Hmmm? Oh, sorry, Gregory. I’m just...processing.”

“Do you think Sherlock will be willing to try his hand at a relationship?”

Finally breaking out of his reverie, Mycroft took a sip of his drink and sank down against his lover. “To be honest, you probably have more of an idea than me. My brother has held me at arm’s length for so many years now that I cannot say I know him well enough to make an assumption.” There was a deep sadness to his voice and Greg wished - not for the first time - that the brothers had a more cordial relationship. It had been clear to the older man since the day he’d met the Holmes duo that Mycroft cared deeply for his younger brother. Years of drug abuse and rebelling had caused Sherlock to dismiss any and all shows of concern as loathsome meddling and Greg wasn’t even sure if Sherlock was aware of how much he was loved by his sibling. 

“I guess they’ll work it out.”

“Yes. I just hope that if it doesn’t work out to Sherlock’s satisfaction, he doesn’t resort to old habits.” He pursed his lips and tapped at his chin with his fingers. “Perhaps I should make some calls...try and locate him.”

“I thought you were trying to step back from doing that sort of stuff? What happened to letting him make his own mistakes?”

“Do you really expect me to sit back when there’s a distinct possibility to may relapse?”

Greg sighed. “No, of course not. Sorry. Do what you have to do.” His phone chimed and he glanced at the message. “Or don’t, actually. It’s John - Sherlock is back at Baker Street. They’ve agreed to take the afternoon and overnight to think about what they both want and are going to have a discussion tomorrow.”

The relief that swept over Mycroft’s features was instant. “That is good to know.”

“Right, I’m declaring a new rule for the rest of today.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow in query. 

“The rest of the day is dedicated to us. No more worrying about Sherlock and John, or work, or anything that will in any way raise our blood pressure. Sound good?”

The redhead nodded. “It does.”

“You said that your surprise wasn’t time dependent. Does that mean that it might be something we could do now instead of tonight?”

“That is more than possible.”

“Does that sound good too?”

“That, my dear Gregory, sounds even better.”

“Great. Do you need me to do anything or go anywhere?”

“Not a thing. We can stay in this very room in fact. I’ll be back in just a moment.” Greg heard him go upstairs and he was soon back, holding up a plastic DVD case with the number ten written on the front and a calico bag that he stashed next to the couch. Mycroft gave him a sexy smile and took out a disc from the case and popped it into the player. He joined his partner on the couch and Greg looked at the telly in interest, wondering what it could be. His dick twitched as the opening scene from his favourite porn movie started playing and he looked over at Mycroft with wide eyes.

“I thought it would be nice to watch it together.”

“How did you know?”

“My superior observational skills aside, I fail to see how anyone in a relationship with you could not know that this was your favourite viewing of adult entertainment.”

“But how? I’ve never owned it on DVD, I just have it on my lapt -” He went suddenly still.  “Mycroft, have you been going through my personal stuff?” 

“ _ No! _ ” If he hadn’t been genuinely concerned about his partner breaching his privacy, the conflicting emotions running across Mycroft’s face would have been adorable - worry, and assurance, and a little bit of chagrin. He guessed the latter was because he’d automatically jumped to the conclusion of snooping and not put it down to his deductive reasoning. 

Greg picked up the remote and hit pause. “Alright, tell me how you knew then.”

“Of the handful of times we have viewed such films together - all of which you have chosen - all but one have had the same leading man in them. Even prior to this activity of mine, have I been looking at procuring a collection that we may enjoy together. Seeing as how you obviously enjoy watching him, I wanted to ensure his works featured heavily in that collection. I researched his films and this one is in the top five of his most popular ones. Additional to that was a comment you made to John about the blonde in this film - you stated that you enjoyed several of her films and recommended to him numerous titles, this amongst it. Lastly, when we ventured into that adult store last month you picked up this title at least four times. None other did you pick up more than once. Ergo, it was obvious to me that you would count this particular viewing as amongst your favourites.”

There was a moment of silence and then Greg launched himself at Mycroft, straddling his lap and kissing him furiously. The younger man could do naught but hang on for the ride, so he wrapped his arms around his lover and parted his lips to allow his tongue to plunder his mouth. They were both panting heavily when they broke apart and had twin hard bulges in their pants. “Your mind is so unbelievably sexy. It gets me so hot and bothered when you do that, especially to me.”

“Y...you didn’t  _ mind _ then? Most people get very antsy when I apply my deductive skills to them.”

“Yeah, it would shit me if you did it over the breakfast table, but you did it for a purpose - a very sexy purpose - and it turns me on so much when you put that much thought into  _ me _ .”

“Gregory, I hesitate to tell you this at the risk of you being subject to a never ending erection, but I  _ always _ put that much thought into any matters that have a regard for you.”

He laughed and then leaned in for another kiss, this one much sweeter and gentler. “And that’s why I love you.”

“Shall we continue with the film now?”

“Sure, though...we can watch a different one if you want? I know women aren’t your thing so we can find one that’s just one big sausage fest if you’d prefer. You know  _ I  _ don’t mind those in the slightest.”

It was Mycroft’s turn to chuckle. “I have observed that in the past, yes. But this is about you, my dear. I will get more than enough enjoyment watching you have fun so it matters little about the subject matter.”

“You want to watch me, huh?”

“You know how much I adore it when you bring yourself pleasure.”

“I’m fine with that, just so long as you get yourself off as well.”

“When I have the pleasure of watching you tend to yourself, there is little chance of me  _ not _ being able to keep my hands off myself.”

“Excellent. Mutual wanking it is.” Greg wiggled his arse against Mycroft’s lap and delighted in the lustful moan that escaped the younger man’s lips. He scooted off his lap and hit play on the remote, then pulled off his trousers and boxers, signalling Mycroft to do the same. When he was also divested of the lower half of his clothing, the redhead leaned over the arm of the couch and extracted several items from the bag he’d dropped there. He placed them on the cushion between them and Greg noted there was several different kinds of lube (their regular one, one that warmed with friction, and a strawberry flavoured one), two plugs, a vibrating bullet, and a silicone sleeve. He grinned at his partner. “Why am I not surprised that you wouldn’t just settle today for using our hands?”

“You can use just your hand if you want, my dear. I merely wanted to have other items available if you so wish to use them. This  _ is _ supposed to be part of a special occasion after all.”

“Christmas is quickly becoming my favourite time of the year.” The self satisfied smirk on Mycroft’s face told Greg that the younger man found that admission highly pleasing. “Careful - I might expect you to do this every year.”

“I’ll do it every day for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes to keep you happy.” 

Greg leaned over and kissed him again, still not quite understanding what he’d done in a past life to deserve to be treated in such a kingly fashion. “You make me happy so just don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, we’re at the point where your blonde finally sucks his cock so she stops making that ridiculous moaning noise. Shall we attend to matters?”

Snorting out a laugh, Greg settled back onto his side of the couch. “You say the sweetest things.” Mycroft poked his tongue out at him, and Greg’s heart swelled. No one else got to see this playful side of his man, only him. That was aphrodisiac enough to make him rock hard. Still, he wanted to make sure that Mycroft enjoyed himself as well so he made a show of inspecting the goods next to him and picked up the bigger of the two plugs and their regular lube. He coated the toy in a generous amount of gel and then scooted down so his back was against the armrest and he could plant his feet on the cushion. The fact that Mycroft had an uninterrupted view might have played into his positioning somewhat as well. He looked over at the screen and enjoyed the view of the blond’s mouth stretched wide around a thick cock, and began to work the plug inside him. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open into an O as he worked the widest part of the plug past the tight ring of muscle and it brushed against his prostate. He pushed his hips down against the couch, moaning as the plug shifted a little inside him, and he brought his lube coated fingers up to stroke along his shaft. He began to tug on himself lightly, and he opened to eyes to find his lover watching him intently, his own hand moving steadily over his cock. His eyes locked on Mycroft’s stormy blue ones and the action on the screen faded into the background as he watched the expression on his elegant face. 

It had taken a long time for his partner to learn he could let down his guard around him. Mycroft had lived and breathed deception, manipulation, and double crossing his whole life and he had found it very difficult to just leave that at the door when he got home. It had taken a lot of patience and willingness on Greg’s part to coax Mycroft into opening up and letting down his walls. When he finally succeeded, what he’d seen had been glorious. The face that normally gave away nothing had suddenly been overrun with expression, and Greg drank in every one of them. His favourite by far was when they made love and he brought his lover to climax - the sheer bliss and abandonment that was evident on his features was priceless. At this very moment he could read lust, love, and joy, but underneath it all was sheer contentment and happiness. 

Their eyes stayed locked on each other, roaming up and down the body of the other, drinking in every stroke, twist, back arch, and gasp. It was Greg who crested first, and Mycroft’s eyes darkened as he watched his lover spurt over his hands and chest. The older man slumped back against the armrest, feeling the occasional aftershock rock his body, and grinned as he watched Mycroft tense and then come. They both took a moment to recover, and while Greg removed the plug, the younger man retrieved a box of tissues from the bottomless bag he’d brought downstairs with him. He passed a handful to Greg who said, “Why thank you, sir. You’re a gentleman  _ and  _ a scholar.”

Mycroft smirked and cleaned himself up, then held out his arms as an invite for Greg to cuddle against him. “That was delightful,” he said as he nuzzled his cheek into his favourite salt and pepper locks.

“It was. I’m rather excited to see what’s coming next.”

“It won’t  _ all _ be orgasmic. Just warning you now so you don’t get too disappointed.”

Greg chuckled. “We’re both middle aged men, love. If they were  _ all _ orgasmic, it would be  _ you _ who would be disappointed because there’s no way I’d be able to keep up.”

“I shall keep that in mind and offer you periods of rest between the mind shattering orgasms then.”

“If you hadn’t already planned it to be like that, I’d say thanks.”

“If I hadn’t already planned it like that and you did say thanks, I would say you’re most welcome.”

“I’m glad we got that sorted.”


	11. Sunday, December 11

Both of them had paperwork to catch up on for work so they spent their Sunday morning sitting together in the study, working quietly next to each other. Living with Mycroft was great, and as much as he loved being whisked off in a flash car for a nice meal at an exclusive restaurant, or having the younger man worship his body, it was times like these that he cherished just as much. They shared perhaps only a handful of words the entire morning, but both found it relaxing to be in the other’s company, even if they were working on completely different things. They took turns going to the kitchen for cups of tea and the odd biscuit, and shared occasional kisses when they needed a breather. It was companionship, pure and simple, and Greg drank in every moment of it.

He received a text from Jonn later in the morning, and grinned at the news. He held up the screen for Mycroft to read. 

_ You’ll be happy to know we had our chat and we’re going to give this a go. Neither of us want to fuck up our friendship, but we think this needs to be explored. _

“That is most heartening,” Mycroft said.

“It’s fucking brilliant is what it is!” Greg crowed. “I’m over the moon for both of them.”

“I never cease to be amazed by your romantic streak, my dear.”

“Didn’t think a grizzled old timer like me had it in him, huh?”

“I’m ashamed to admit that that is very much the case.”

“Can’t say I blame you. You know full well what a shite time I had in my divorce, and I’m surprised myself that I didn’t turn into a bitter, twisted prick.”

“Can I also say I’m not ashamed that I bask in your romantic streak? I find it most appealing.”

Greg laughed. “Yeah, well it’s nothing compared to yours, Mr Holmes. Honestly, this past week or so has blown my mind.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my little project.”

“I very much am. Can I ask what’s on the agenda for today?”

“I suppose I could give you a hint since you asked so very nicely.”

“That’s very magnanimous of you.”

“It will involve me in the kitchen tonight.”

“Oooh! What are you making?”

“Do you not want any element of mystery to remain?”

“That’s fun I suppose, but I’m all excited now. You’re a brilliant cook, and I’m curious as to what I’ll be spoiled with.”

“Flattery  _ will _ get you everywhere it seems,” Mycroft replied wryly. “I’m making you my cannelloni.”

The older man’s mouth started watering at the thought of it. “You know how much I love that dish.”

“Why do you think I chose it?”

“Have I told you today that I love you?”

“You have not.”

“Then consider yourself told.”

“I love you, too.”

“What’s for dessert?”

“Some things will have to remain a mystery, though I have no doubt that you’ll enjoy it as much as dinner.

oOoOo

If he’d picked up his plate and licked it, it couldn’t have gotten any cleaner. Greg leaned back and rubbed at his stomach, knowing he ate too much but not giving a damn because it was Mycroft’s cannelloni and he could eat that till he was sick. In fact, he’d come close.

His partner was sitting next to him at the breakfast bar, a pleased grin on his face at the level of enjoyment the older man had gotten from the rather casual meal. He stood and crossed the few steps to the sink, clearing the dishes away, and poured them some more wine.

“This was great, Myc. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

They spoke quietly for a while, allowing their meal to begin to digest. About half an hour later, Greg drained the last of his wine and gave Mycroft a hopeful look. “So...what’s for dessert?”

The redhead pinned him with a predatory look and pulled him to his feet. “ _ You _ .”

There was a muffled yelp as Greg was pushed back against the kitchen counter and his mouth was claimed by his partner. It turned into a low moan as a hand trailed down his chest, pinching his nipples lightly through the fabric. His eyes closed and he tilted his head back, and Mycroft immediately latched onto his throat, sucking lightly over his pulse point. His own fingers were busy, pulling the crisp shirt from Mycroft’s trouser band so he could run his fingers over the skin of his back, moving from soft, smooth skin, to the raised ridges of old scars. 

“How do you want me?” the silver haired DI asked in a breathy voice.

“Hard and fast,” his partner growled into his ear. 

Greg’s cock twitched violently at the words and he hissed out a “ _ Yes _ .”

Mycroft unfastened Greg’s jeans and shoved them down to the floor, before spinning him so he was facing the counter. He opened one of the drawers and removed the tube of lube he’d stashed there earlier, his hand splayed against Greg’s back, pinning him. He coated his fingers and worked two in, finding it rather easy due to the amount of sex they’d been having lately. He quickly increased it to three and then, feeling happy he wouldn’t hurt the older man, pulled them out and lined his cock up. He pushed in, burying himself about halfway in the one thrust.

Greg gasped in pleasure and pushed his arse backwards. “Fuck, Myc. Need you, deeper.”

Taking hold of his lover’s hips, Mycroft began to thrust harder, working himself deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed. He breathed deeply, trying to stave off his fast approaching orgasm. The view he had of himself sliding in and out of Greg’s tight entrance was making that very difficult. “I’m so close already,” he choked out in an apologetic voice.

In answer, Greg pushed backwards again, grinning at the loud moan that escaped the younger man. “Never apologise for that, love. It’s so hot that I do that to you. Besides, you said hard and fast and you’d better deliver.”

Ah yes, he had said that. His grip on Greg’s hips turned bruising as he thrust hard against his lover, pounding into the delicious heat. Greg had been resting both elbows on the counter, but he removed one and licked his palm so he could fuck his fist. He could feel the tension in Mycroft building and he squeezed his muscles as hard as he could, causing him to cry out and come deep inside him. He shuddered against Greg’s back and several strokes later the older man followed him over the edge. 

Mycroft pressed kisses to his back, and then they held onto each other for support as they straightened on wobbly knees. Greg looked around and started giggling. “I made a bit of a mess. Sorry.”

Mycroft followed his gaze and saw the front of the cupboards streaked with his release and he started giggling as well. “If we have unexpected visitors, we can always say we spilled the white sauce.”

“Which wouldn’t be a lie at all.”

“One must always strive to be truthful when one can.”

 


	12. Monday, December 12

Well, this wasn’t one he’d seen before. He and Sally stood quietly, looking at the body, at a loss for words. Eventually, Greg muttered, “Sucks to be Anderson today.”

Sally burst out laughing and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, looking around to see if anyone was offended. None of the officers seemed mortified - in fact, the crime scene photographer had overheard the remark and was trying to hide his own smirk.

“What the fuck is  _ he _ doing here?” Sally demanded, all traces of laughter gone.

Greg looked to where she was glaring and saw Sherlock making his way over. John trailed behind him, trying his best to keep out of the way of the people who were actually being paid to investigate this case. “No idea, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment further. She was getting better at keeping her thoughts to herself and had ceased calling him ‘freak’ just after her boss started dating his brother.

“Sherlock. To what do we owe this pleasure?” Greg called out.

“The body was found by one of my homeless network, Lestrade. They advised that I might find it interes -” He saw the body and for once, was at a loss for words. Greg filed that image away in his head for later because he didn’t think he’d ever get to see it again.

John reached them and his eyes widened. “Wow. That’s not something you see everyday.” He tilted his head a little. “I wonder if that was inserted before or after?”

“We’re saving that little present for Anderson,” Greg announced happily.

Sherlock snorted out a laugh and hurried to compose himself. He pulled out his pocket magniscope and started to look over the body. The man had been stabbed multiple times and had been dumped under a bridge. He was dressed in a clown costume, complete with a fake water-spurting daisy pinned to his chest and a bright red, plastic nose. A large dildo had been shoved into his mouth, and death had frozen his lips obscenely around it. His legs were parted and the one piece costume had been slit from his navel down to the crotch. The biggest dildo that anyone had ever seen was up the newly deceased’s arse. It was the sort of thing you’d pick up in an adult store and have a laugh over but never seriously think that anyone would ever buy for anything other than a joke. Across his stomach, silly string had been arranged to form the word ‘clown’.

Greg stepped back to allow Sherlock to work quietly (before Anderson arrived and made a fuss) and pulled John with him. “So, things went well then?”

The doctor grinned and nodded. “Yeah. We’re taking it slowly because I got him to admit that this  _ is _ his first time with all of this. Of course, I’m new to the whole ‘being with a man’ thing so I’m wanting to take it slow as well. I’m just hoping I don’t cock it up.”

Greg clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You won’t, mate. You got him to accept that having a few friends and giving a toss isn’t the end of the world. If there’s anyone who can make him realise that having someone to share your life with is pretty damn good, it’s you.”

“Cheers for that. I think I’ve got my work cut out for me, but it’ll be worth it.”

“I reckon so. If you ever need to chat though, give me a call. I think we’re going to have to stick together, you and me. Being with a Holmes can do your fucking head in at times so we’ll need someone we can commiserate with.”

“Maybe a monthly support meeting at the pub?”

“Monthly?”

“Yeah, what what I thinking. Weekly?”

“We’ll pencil it in.”

Forensics arrived and surprisingly, Anderson wasn’t too upset that Sherlock had gotten to the body first. He even asked for his thoughts, and Greg couldn’t tell if it was the surprise of being asked nicely, or new relationship euphoria, but Sherlock was hardly scathing at all as he rattled off his deductions. 

Greg’s phone rang and he excused himself as he answered it. “Hey, Myc. What’s up?”

“I’m afraid I’m being called away for several days to facilitate some negotiations.”

“Oh.” He tried to not let the disappointment be too evident in his voice. Mycroft seemed to not bother trying to hide his.

“I’m so very sorry, Gregory. I wish there was something I could do, or somebody I could send in my stead, but unfortunately this situation is too delicate for me to be able to delegate it out.”

“It’s alright, love. I understand. And I know you’d rather be here if you could.”

“I’m estimating it will take perhaps four days, but that could change. I will let you know as soon as I have more of a concrete timeframe.”

“Well I’ll look forward to your lovely surprises when you get back.”

“Gregory, I’m hurt that you would think I had not considered that I would be away for at least some of the days leading up to Christmas. Your surprises will continue whilst I am away, without a doubt.”

Greg laughed. “I suppose it was a little uncharitable of me.”   
“I wish our circumstances could be otherwise, but they are not and so we must be flexible. I ensured that all that I have planned could be moved around to accommodate any work related absences to ensure your maximum enjoyment of them.”

“I really wish I could express just how much this means to me, Myc. Honestly, no one has ever gone to so much effort for plain old me before.”

“There is nothing plain about you, Gregory. And this project of mine could never hope to show just how deep my regard is for you. It is but a drop in the ocean.” He sighed. “I really must be off.”

“Take care of yourself. Keep in touch?”

“That will not be a problem on this trip. I love you, Gregory.”

“Love you too. Bye.” Greg put his phone back into his coat pocket and hated the way his stomach felt like lead. He realised he was probably being needy and clingy but he hated when Mycroft was called away. The time they got to spend together was precious and he missed him every minute he couldn’t be there. Trying to clear his face of all emotion, he squared his shoulders and headed back over to the crime scene. At least he’d have a case to keep him occupied. He walked back over to hear the tail end of Sherlock explaining who had killed the man and dressed him as a clown.

Okay, so maybe not.

oOoOo

The house was dark and quiet when Greg got home, and he walked slowly up the stairs to their bedroom to get changed. He flicked on the light and his eyes were drawn to his bedside table immediately. There was large silver frame there with a note attached. He crossed to the bed and sat down, picking up the frame. The note read:

_ 12 - For some unfathomable reason, we have no framed photos of us. We need to remedy this, and this is the first step. M _

He pulled the note from the frame and smiled as he looked at the photo. Molly had taken it in secret at John’s birthday party and had sent it to Greg in a message the following day. They were sitting on the couch at Baker Street and Greg was mid-laugh. Mycroft was looking at him and his face was alight with adoration. As soon as he’d seen it, he’d saved it as his home screen image on his phone, and it quickly became his favourite photo of them.

Mycroft was right - they didn't have any framed photos of them around the house. They had quite a few on their phones (as a joke, John had gotten Greg a selfie stick for Christmas last year and he’d used it rather regularly) but they’d not gotten around to having any printed. He was happy that his partner wanted to have photos of them up - it was just another thing that would put their joint stamp on their home. Greg wasn’t normally territorial, but he wanted very much for anyone coming to their home to know that it was  _ theirs _ and not just Mycroft’s. 

He traced his fingers over the photo, drinking in the expression on the redhead’s face. He knew without a doubt that Mycroft loved him more than anyone had ever loved him. Even in the early days of his marriage it was obvious that they’d made a mistake, and it had only become more and more barren as the years passed. When he’d finally broken it off, he had held little hope that he’d ever find anyone he could truly be happy with, but life had surprised him. And now he had someone, who even though he couldn’t always be there, made sure Greg knew that he was loved. The knot of loneliness that had curled in his stomach all day began to ease just a little with that knowledge and he placed the frame back down on the table and headed to the bathroom for a shower. 


	13. Tuesday, December 13

Tuesday saw Greg spending the whole day at court, but he wasn’t alone as both Sherlock and John were joining him. They had taken on a case privately but when it had become apparent the missing spouse had most likely been murdered, they’d involved Greg and his team. They had found the body of the wife in the woods at the park opposite their house and had proved that it was her sister who had killed her. The woman had been secretly in love with the husband for years and was jealous of the life her sibling had with him. They had argued one day when she was over for a coffee and the sister had snapped. She’d pulled the butcher’s knife from the block and stabbed the wife twice in the chest. 

The evidence they had was solid, but juries were made up of people, and people could be emotional. Despite his protests, Greg and John had been coaching Sherlock in his ‘court manner’. They didn’t want the sister to get off on a murder charge because the genius had offended the entire jury by pointing out how stupid they were. Greg could only assume it was John’s newly increased influence over Sherlock, because he was surprisingly well behaved. 

They finished up their day, not needing to return as the prosecution had rested, and John invited Greg around for dinner. He politely declined, knowing that as genuine as the offer had been, the new lovebirds would much prefer time alone. He saw them off in a cab and stopped by a little Indian place on the way back to his car to pick up something for dinner. 

It was a quiet night in for him and he used it to do a little paperwork, before curling up on the couch to watch some crap telly. His brain cells had just started to melt from the rubbish he was subjecting them to when his phone beeped with a text.

_ 13: I’m heading back to my hotel room now, and I’ll be phoning when I get there. I want you on the bed, naked, with lube handy when I call. M _

The sonic boom as Greg moved to the bedroom could be heard across London. He was breathless with anticipation when he answered the phone on the first ring. “Myc!”

A low, throaty chuckle delighted his ears. “Good evening, Gregory. You sound enthusiastic.”

“If I’d sent you the same text, wouldn’t you be?

“Most certainly. You may find this easier if you put the phone on speaker.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling I’ll need both my hands free.” He did as he was told.

“Now, have you been good and followed my instructions?”

Greg stretched out on the bed, and trailed his fingers down the tanned skin of his chest. “Mmm, I did.”

“Very good,” Mycroft purred, and the sound went straight to Greg’s cock. He couldn’t explain exactly what it was - maybe it was the articulate way of speaking, or the poshness, or the tone - but Mycroft could get him hot and wanting just from his voice. “I want you to follow my instructions exactly.”

He gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“You are not to come until I say so.”

Greg groaned, but knew Mycroft would make the wait worthwhile.

“I want you to place two fingers in your mouth and suck on them. Get them nice and wet.”

He did as instructed, the faint taste of the curry he’d had for dinner still there. 

“Now, using those lovely wet fingers, I want you to rub your nipples. I know how much you like them being played with. Rub them, brush over them, pinch them, make them hard.”

He let out a sigh of pleasure as he did as he was told, licking the fingers on his other hand so he could work both nipples at once.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” he said in a breathy voice.

“Now, I want you to squeeze some lube onto your hands, and get it nice and warm. I want you to be able to imagine that it’s my mouth on your cock when you stroke yourself, so make sure you get those lovely large hands of yours nice and slippery.”

His breath caught in his throat at the images in his head, and he hurried to comply. He could hear faintly the snap of a cap on the other end of the line and he knew that his lover was making the exact same preparations. “Done,” he whispered.

“Good. Now, I want you to close your eyes, and stroke yourself. Wrap your hand all the way around, surround your cock, feel the warmth around you. Now remember what it feels like, what it looks like, what it sounds like, when I’m on my knees in front you, with my lips wrapped around you, sucking you deeply.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ !” Greg moaned, finding it so easy to recall those memories. The sight of Mycroft blowing him was one of his favourite things. Seeing the stormy blue eyes looking up at him, his lips stretched wide, his chin wet from where Greg’s wet cock had dragged along it - it was a sight that featured heavily in his thoughts when he was alone and horny. 

“Squeeze yourself as you stroke, twist your hand the way I know you like it. Now, with your other hand, reach down and play with your bollocks. I wish I was there so I could suck on them, and roll them around on my tongue. It feels divine when I do that, and I know you love it too.”

Greg stroked his balls, tugging on them oh so lightly, and his breath hitched. There was an answering moan from the other end of the phone and he gasped, “Myc!”

“I’m so close, Gregory, just knowing what you’re doing to yourself. I’m leaking so much, so wet, so good. I’m so hard for you, and I wish I was there so I could bend you over and fuck you so hard. I know you love having my long cock in your arse, love having it thrust inside you, hard and fast, filling you so much, stretching you, burning, but feeling oh so good. Would you like that? Would you like me to fuck you?”

Greg was hovering on the edge, so turned on by Mycroft’s dirty talk that he could hardly hold his orgasm at bay. He held the base of his cock firmly, his whole body trembling, crying out for release. “Please, Myc, I’m so close. I want you so much, I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“I’m close too, just thinking of having your tight arse wrapped around me, squeezing me in that wet heat. I want you to come with me, Gregory, I want you to think of us together and cry out my name as you explode all over yourself.”

He did just that, the sheer lust in his lover’s voice sending sparks to his brain as his hand flew over his cock. “Fuck,  _ Mycroft _ !” he cried as he striped his stomach with the hot strands of his release. He heard his partner letting go at the same time, and for a long minute they were silent except for the harsh panting of their breaths. When he had caught his breath, Greg huffed out a laugh. “The things you do to me with that filthy mouth of yours, Mr Holmes.”

“With you as my inspiration, Gregory, I find it comes so easily.”

“Just like I do.” The chuckle on the phone sent a wave of bittersweet emotions through the DI. “I wish you were here,” he murmured.

A sigh. “As do I. It won’t be long now, my dear.”

“I know.”

“You should get some sleep. Do you have your pillow?”

Greg smiled. ‘I do. My Mycroft substitute is on the other side of the bed, since he doesn’t enjoy being covered in my spunk as much as my real Mycroft does.”

“No, I don’t think he would. I’ll leave you to clean up then so you can snuggle up with my substitute.”

“I wish you had something you could snuggle up with,” Greg said a little sadly.

“But I do.”

“Really?”

“I took one of your shirts with me when I left and have dressed one of the hotel pillows in it. I have my very own Gregory substitute here with me.”

He laughed. “I’m glad. I’m pretty sure  _ he _ wouldn’t mind being covered in your lovely stickiness.”

“Pfft, he’d then be too icky to snuggle with. I’ve kept him out of harm’s way.”

“Good to hear. Goodnight, Myc. I love you.”

“And I love you. Sleep well, Gregory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just getting sappier, isn't it? I take my tags rather seriously, and did warn you might start to be a little nauseous ;-)


	14. Wednesday, December 14

Even with the work he had done previously for them, Greg was finding his team’s appraisals to be taking longer than he’d thought. He had declared himself desk bound for the day and was determined to get them completed before he clocked off. A case had come in and he sent Sally off as lead, noting the small look of pride on her face at the responsibility.

His phone chirped and saw it was a message from Mycroft. What surprised him was that there was also an image attached. It was a selfie and Mycroft wore a self conscious smile, always slightly uncomfortable with taking photos of himself. The message that accompanied it said simply:

_ 14.1 - I miss you _

He smiled and sent back a message to say he missed him too, and then pondered the 14.1 for a while. None of his other surprises had come in installments before and he wondered what else the day had in store for him. 

It was almost exactly one hour later that he found out. Another message arrived with:  _ 14.2 _ as the caption. It was another photo, this time of Mycroft’s hands. They were folded together and were resting on the desk, and the cuffs of his sleeves had pulled up just enough to highlight the delicate wrists. Not knowing, or particularly caring, how Mycroft had managed to take the photo (he assumed it most likely involved a propped up selfie stick and timer rather than a third party), he studied the photo intently. Mycroft’s hands had always fascinated him and he had spent a good amount of time in the past sucking on those long, slender fingers and enjoying as they explored the more intimate parts of his body. There was a knock at the door and he hurriedly locked his screen, then waved in the young constable who had a stack of papers for him.

Another hour passed and his phone chirped again.  _ 14.3 _ was a photo of of one of his lover’s forearms. His cuff had been unbuttoned and the sleeve rolled up, and one of those delicate hands was adjusting the material at his elbow. Greg gulped at his cock twitched and he sent a text in reply.

_ I’m at work, you bastard! You know exactly what this is doing to me! _

There must have been a window near the desk Mycroft was at when he took the photo, because the light cast over his pale skin seemed brighter than normal. It highlighted the blue veins under his skin, and the sprinkling of freckles and it was difficult to not recall the times he’d licked his way up that delicious forearm and nipped at crook of his elbow. 

_ You’ve worshipped this body of mine enough for me to know which parts you like best. I’m merely offering you a reminder of said parts. M _

Greg couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips and he looked at the clock. It had just gone 3pm and he wondered if he’d make it home before Mycroft sent him photos of the parts he  _ really _ liked. Maybe he needed to get a move on so he could get out on time, or even a little early.

_ 14.4 _ arrived after another hour, and this time is was of Mycroft’s neck. His jacket was removed and his tie was loosened just enough to show the hollow of his throat. He was turned away from the camera so his pale skin was stretched taut over the long tendon that ran down the length of his neck. The desire to lick his way up that delicious expanse of skin was almost overwhelming. Greg’s cock jumped again, sending a strong message to his brain that he really wanted to be home alone right now, where he could have some attention lavished on him without being dragged into HR for lewd acts at work.

The clock was just hitting 5pm and Greg was packing up his things for the day when the next message arrived.  _ 14.5 _ was a shot of Mycroft’s stomach, . His belt was still through the loops of his trousers but the buckle had been undone, and that relatively innocent detail made Greg’s mouth water. Dark shadows outlined the area of his pale skin where his hip bones protruded slightly, and the trail of auburn hair that started at his belly button disappeared beneath the band of his trousers. He was so focused on the sight before him that he didn't hear Sally calling her name until she repeated it for the fourth time. He looked up with a “Huh?”

“I said, we’re going to the pub. Want to join us?”

He shook his head. “Thanks but I really have to get home. I have...things to do.”

She shrugged and wished him a good night, leaving him to scoop up his coat and hurry to his car.

London traffic was a bitch and although they didn’t live overly far from the Yard, it still took Greg over half an hour to get home. He had showered and changed into comfortable pyjamas by the time the next photo came through.  _ 14.6 _ was taken from over Mycroft’s shoulder. He was naked and lying on his stomach, and the view took in his long back and the swell of his buttocks. The tent Greg was pitching in his pyjama bottoms was growing larger. 

_ 14.7  _ was of his thighs, and the love bite Greg had placed on the inside of his left thigh was still visible, but faded. He longed to be able to remark his lover, sucking until he bought the mark back to a glowing red.

_ 14.8  _ was a close up photo of Mycroft’s most seductive grin, and Greg decided that he should quickly have some dinner and prepare to be in bed before the next photo came through. It was probably a good idea to have an early night once in awhile anyways.

He’d been in bed for maybe ten minutes, with Mycroft’s shirt pillow cuddled against him (it smelled strongly of his lover’s cologne so he’d obviously refreshed it before he left) when  _ 14.9  _ came through. Mycroft was now on his back and one of his hands was wrapped around his extremely hard cock. Pre-come was glistening on the tip and he could also see a small pool of it on his creamy stomach. Greg didn’t hold himself back any longer - he took himself in hand and began to stroke, his eyes drinking in the sight of Mycroft doing the same. He had been half hard for most of the day due to the series of photos and it was a very short time later that he was spurting hot semen over his stomach with a grunt. He lay there panting, and then decided to be cheeky. He snapped a photo of the finished product and sent it to Mycroft and laughed when he received an almost exact replica back.

_ Glad I could be of service. Sleep sweet. M _

He cleaned himself up, turned off the lamp, and huddled down in the blankets. Clutching the shirt pillow to his chest, he inhaled deeply and soon drifted off to sleep, happy and sated.

 


	15. Thursday, December 15

The afternoon had dragged by. As much as he didn’t want to go home to an empty house, Greg really didn’t want to be at the office either. He had been watching the clock relentlessly for the past two hours, and it wasn’t long before he could knock off for the day. He wondered if John would be up for grabbing a pint, or if he’d be too busy with Sherlock and everything that came with that new relationship bliss. Figuring it was worth a shot, he pulled out his mobile to send him a text. He’d only just unlocked the screen when it buzzed in his hand, signalling an incoming text. He cursed as it made him jump, and juggled the phone as it slipped from his hand. He caught it before it hit the ground and he mentally pat himself on the back for not having entirely lost his reflexes to old age. He opened the message app and his heart skipped as he saw it was from Mycroft.

_ You’ll shortly be receiving a package. I advise you ensure you’re alone when you open it. M _

He waited to see if there would be a follow up message to explain the first, but when none seemed to be coming, he replied with  _ Okay _ . There was a knock on the door and he looked up to see a scowling delivery man standing there. He shook his head a little, never able to figure out exactly how his partner came by his perfect timing, but assuming it had something to do with having the CCTV network at his fingertips. He accepted the parcel, signed his life away, and then bid the grumpy courier a cheerful farewell. He started to rip it open, but then paused, crossing to the door and closing it just to be safe. 

There was a plain white box inside and when he opened it there was the familiar card sitting on top of a velvet bag. He picked up the card and read:

_ 15 - I arrived back in the country several hours ago and am heading home now. As soon as you join me, I will be bending you over and fucking you. Since I won’t be able to control myself, I suggest you use the enclosed to prepare yourself so you’re nice and open for me. M _

His eyes had widened reading the note, and he lifted the velvet bag from where it was nestled in the box, pulling free the drawstrings, and emptying the contents into his hand. Out fell a large, purple butt plug and a small tube of lube. His cock twitched as he shoved the toy back into the bag, and started to pack away into his briefcase everything that he’d need to take home tonight to get finished due to leaving early. The velvet bag went into the box, and he tucked it under his arm, and ducked out to let his DCI know that he was heading home as he had a pounding headache. He was given a nod and told to go to bed early to rest up, and he hoped his cheeks didn’t burn brighter than the sun when he assured the man he’d be going to bed as soon as he got home. 

Before he left, he ducked into the loos near the printing room, knowing hardly anyone used those ones since they were a bit out of the way. As expected, there was no one in there, and he closed himself into the cubicle farthest from the door. Greg dropped his trousers and boxers, and turned sideways so he could spread his legs as wide as possible in the cramped space. He squeezed some lube out onto his fingers to begin with, circling his hole and slipping in one, followed quickly by another. He added a third, finding himself easily accepting the extra girth, so he pulled out his digits and lubed up the plug. He moaned softly as he worked it inside, taking a moment to relax around the widest part, before it slipped all the way in. Pre-come was already beading on his cock, and he swiped it over the head, and stroked himself a couple of times. 

He took a deep breath, forcing his hand to drop from his length, and fighting the almost irresistible urge to fuck himself with the plug. The last thing he wanted to do was to jerk himself off in a grimy work bathroom and then be spent when he got home to his lover. He wasn’t sixteen anymore - he had self control and it was time to use it. He pulled his boxers and trousers back up, and stepped from the stall. He took his time washing his hands, hoping the cold water on his skin would encourage his dick to settle down. It chose not to, and he tugged his jacket as far down his torso as he could, hoping to hide his bulging erection. Taking another deep breath, he left the bathroom.

He’d never walked through an entire building of his colleagues with an enormous plug shoved up his arse before, and it wasn’t as much fun as it sounded. His cheeks were flushed, and he tried to walk as casually as possible, but he knew he wasn’t succeeding. Every inch of his skin seemed to be tingling, much more sensitive than usual. The loos he had been in weren’t used much because they were on the opposite side of the building to the lifts. In hindsight, he probably should have taken his chances at the busier ones that had a shorter walk to the exit. 

Sally saw him edging around the area where his team sat and hurried over to him. “Boss! Holy heck, the DCI said you were going home sick but he didn't say you looked this terrible.” She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. “You’re burning up. Make sure you take some paracetamol when you get home, yeah.”

He smiled, but was sure it came across more as a grimace, but that only helped to sell the lie. “Cheers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“If you’re not well, just stay home.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine after a proper night’s sleep.”

“Alright, well you take care.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and made his way over to the lifts. He was almost there when a young constable bumped into him, sending him staggering. The sudden movement pushed the plug hard against his prostate and he gasped loudly. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” She clutched at his arm, and he instinctively pulled back from the touch. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Just a pounding headache.”

“I really am sorry.”

“Honestly, it’s all good. Just, you know, be a bit more careful next time.” The lift dinged and as soon as the occupants had walked out, he hurried inside. He hit the button for the ground floor and then the close doors button, ignoring the admin officer who was heading for it as well. Once the doors were shut, he leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. If Mycroft didn't fuck him senseless, he was going to kill the bastard for this. 

He managed to get to his car without further incident, but hadn’t given any thought to how his drive home would be affected. He slid into the seat and felt as the plug was shoved in even deeper, pressing against a happy bundle of nerves. “ _ Holy fucking shit _ !” His trousers were so tight from his straining cock that he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the zip burst open. He squirmed in the seat, trying to change the angle even slightly, just to take the edge off. Once he found a position that was workable, he started for home, grateful he had an automatic and not a manual. Working a clutch would have been the death of him.

He pulled into the drive and hurried inside, calling for his lover. Mycroft appeared at the top of stairs, and came down to meet him. Greg didn’t even let him say a word before he threw himself at him, snogging him senseless. The taller man made a guttural sound in the back of his throat as the DI ground against his thigh. 

They finally broke apart and Mycroft managed to ask, “Bedroom?”

“No,” Greg snarled, undoing his trousers and shoving it all down to the ground. “Right here, against the wall.” The stormy blue of his eyes almost disappeared entirely as Mycroft’s pupils dilated. He fumbled at his own  trousers as Greg worked the plug free and then braced himself against the wall. “I want you hard, and I want you fast.”

Deciding to give his partner exactly what he asked for, Mycroft crouched slightly to line himself up and then thrust his way inside. They both moaned as he sank halfway in, and he took firm hold of Greg’s hips as he started rocking, sinking in further with each forward thrust. Once he was fully seated, he increased the pace, the only sounds echoing around the small foyer were their heavy breaths and the slap of skin on skin. 

He snaked a slender hand around Greg’s hip and curled it around his lover’s cock, matching his strokes to his rhythm perfectly. “Fuck, yes, like that, Myc. Oh, yes, please, harder,  _ please.” _

Mycroft’s legs began to shake and he cried out as he orgasmed, filling the tight heat with his come. Greg rocked his hips, fucking the fist that was wrapped around his shaft until he felt the pressure build in his balls. Then he was coming, spurting over Mycroft’s hands, and his own stomach. Once the last wave had rolled through him, he fell back against his lover and they both sank to the ground. Mycroft wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled into his throat. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured.

Greg laughed. “You too. Welcome home, love.”

“Shall we shower?”

“I honestly don’t think I can stand just yet.”

“Then a shower can wait.”

They stayed where they were, laughing as Greg told him of this plight to get out of the building, allowing their legs to recover from being turned to jelly.


	16. Friday, December 16

Sherlock was waiting for Greg when he arrived at work that morning, the tall genius almost thrumming with energy. He was so close behind when following the DI into his office that he almost trod on the his heel.

“Blimey, Sherlock, give me a bloody second to get in the door!”

“Urgh! Hurry up then!”

Rolling his eyes, he shrugged out of his coat and slung it on the back of his chair. “What’s got your knickers in a twist this morning?”

“Bored! I need a case, a cold case,  _ anything _ .”

That left Greg speechless. “You’re bored? I thought you’d be so busy shagging John into the mattress that you’d be occupied till the new year.”

Pink tinged his pale cheeks. “John has a shift at the surgery today.”

“I see. So since you’re not getting any of the sweet stuff at home, you’ve come to see what I can rustle up for you?”

Sherlock crinkled his nose in disgust. “I’m not interested in ‘sweet stuff’ from you, Lestrade.”

“I’m guttered.” Greg smirked. “Truly, I am. I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight after suffering from such a horrible rejection.”

“How on earth does my brother put up with you?”

He flopped down into his chair and shrugged. “No idea. Lucky for me, he does.”

There was a knock at the door and Sally popped her head in. She glanced at Sherlock but didn't acknowledge him (a vast improvement from yesteryear) and then quirked an eyebrow at Greg. “You feeling better today, boss?”

Ignoring the skeptical look on the face of the consulting detective, Greg gave her a smile. “Yeah, much better, thanks.”

“Cos we’ll manage if you’re not well enough to be here.”

“What are you on about, Donovan?” Sherlock snapped. "Lestrade isn’t sick.”

“He was yesterday. Looked terrible.”

“I rather think that would have been more likely due to a raging-”

“ _ I’m fine, Sal _ ,” Greg said over the top of Sherlock. “Thanks.” She gave him a small smile and closed the door and he turned his glare on the taller man. “Quite right there?”

“Only wanting to ensure you have enough to cry yourself to sleep over,” he snipped.

“Right, well, I can’t say I didn’t deserve that,” he admitted magnanimously. “Look, just give me half an hour and I should be able to dig you up some cold cases to have a look at. How bout while I do that you grab us a coffee?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because you’ve been overcome by Christmas cheer and goodwill?”

“That’s about as likely as I am to get you a coffee.”

“You’re a right git, you know that?”

“So John tells me almost daily.”

“Any chance you have a new year’s resolution to work on that?”

“About the same probability as me being overcome with Christmas cheer.”

He sighed. “Fine. You’ll need to wait an extra five minutes for your cases though.”

“Why?”

“I’m going for coffee.”

“Ah, excellent. Black, two sugars thanks.”

Once Greg had been caffeinated and the urge to throttle the lanky genius had subsided somewhat, he found some cold cases to keep him occupied, and then got on with his own work. Sherlock settled himself into the chair in the corner, and he was soon immersed in the paperwork, only breaking the silence that fell over the room to ask the odd question. It was strangely peaceful and Greg found himself having a productive morning clearing away the paperwork from his own in tray. At midday he convinced the younger man to leave the office for an hour to get some lunch, and then they took up where they had left off. No new homicides were reported, and Greg finished up on time. 

Feeling generous, the DI offered to make copies of the files so Sherlock could take them home, and was shocked when he declined the offer. “John,” Sherlock grunted as way of an explanation. “He prefers to spend our time together... _ cuddling _ .” He pulled a face at the foreign concept. “I’m not allowed to work during that time unless it’s for an active case.”

“Good for him,” Greg said with a laugh. “Well, feel free to pop by on Monday if you want. Ii the meantime, enjoy your cuddle time.” He grinned at the withering look that was shot his way and made his way out to his car.

The house was quiet when he got home, Mycroft still at the office. Greg had a quick shower and then started dinner, whipping together a quick stir fry. He popped the rice cooker on and was just plating up when his partner came in. “Hey, love,” he said, kissing him on the cheek. “How was your day?”

“Tolerable, I suppose.”

“So no having to save the world?”

“Not today.”

“Pity - I was hoping you’d wear your cape.”

“What an awful shame,” Mycroft replied, straight faced.

“Ah well, a man can hope.”

They settled down at the table and began to eat in a comfortable silence.

“This is delicious,” Mycroft said after a while.

Greg shrugged. “Nothing fancy. I thought it would be nice, being  _ Stirfriday _ and all.”

Mycroft groaned. “I can’t believe you’re still calling it that. It’s been months since we watched that God awful show.”

“Oi!  _ Archer _ is  _ not _ awful! It’s quality entertainment.”

“While I admit that despite the ludicrity, it is somewhat more realistic than the Bond films, it still doesn’t give an accurate representation of the secret services.”

“And you’d know since you’re a spy.”

“As I’ve said before, I will not admit to that.”

“Which means you are.”

“Gregory…”

He pouted. “No need to use the ‘stern’ voice, Myc. I’m just playing.”

“With fire.”

The set of his lover’s mouth had changed and he knew he was on dangerous ground, so he changed the subject. “Sherlock spent the day with me, going over cold cases.”

“I’d have thought he would be otherwise occupied.”

“Well, John was at work, so he needed a distraction.”

“You don’t have to cave to his every whim, Gregory.”

“It was nice, actually. I think a certain army doctor has been rather good at mellowing him.”

“He might be on his best behaviour now, but I don’t expect that to last very long.”

“Pessimist.”

“ _ Realist _ .”

“We’ll see.”

“That I’m right? Yes, we will.”

Greg rolled his eyes, and stood to clear away the dishes. “Smartarse.”

As he was rinsing the plates, he felt arms encircle his waist. “I do apologise,” Mycroft murmured into his ear. “I’m feeling a bit out of sorts today. I don’t mean to be snippy with you.”

He turned his neck so he could give his partner a kiss. “It’s fine, love. You’re allowed bad days.”

“But you shouldn’t bear the brunt of my discontent.”

“That’s what I’m here for. What can I do to cheer you up?”

He squeezed him tightly. “Come upstairs? I have surprise number 16 waiting for you. That always makes me feel better.”

“And yet it’s  _ me _ getting spoiled.”

“Seeing you happy makes me happy,” he said simply.

Greg popped the dishes into the washer and followed Mycroft upstairs to their bedroom. He was guided over to the bed and told to close his eyes, which he did instantly. A moment later an object was placed in his hands. “Can I open now?”

“Please do.”

He looked down and gasped. He was holding a hardcover copy of  _ The Princess Bride _ . Flipping it open, he saw it had been signed by William Goldman. “Oh,  _ Myc _ . This is...I can’t even...I mean, there’s just no words.” He looked up, and his eyes were blurry with unshed tears. 

“It’s a first edition. Well, a first edition of the 40th anniversary edition, but you get the point.”

“This must have cost you a fortune. It’s too much!”

A finger was held to his lips. “Hush, none of that. It’s not every day I can do something like this for you, and you deserve this, and so much more. I would be honoured if you would accept this, especially since I know you lost your copy a few years back.”

Greg wiped at his eyes with his sleeve so he wouldn’t drip salty tears over his new treasure. “I adore it. Thank you, Myc.” He leant over and captured the younger man in a kiss. “I don’t even know where my old copy got to. I only noticed it missing when I moved.”

“I think you’ll find it on the top shelf of Sherlock’s bookshelf.”

“Oh! I forgot about that.”

Mycroft smiled. “I’ll never forget it. I walked into his old flat to find you on the couch, with Sherlock’s head in your lap, reading to him as his body shook while he detoxed. There was a bucket full of vomit at your feel, and your shirt was drenched with his sweat, but he was calmer than I’d ever seen him whilst coming down off a high. Your voice captivated him, and he clung to every word.”

“I didn’t realise it had had such an effect on him.”

Mycroft kissed his temple and pulled him close. “You have  _ always _ had an effect on him. More so than I could ever hope to have. You being there for him, offering him support and friendship - that was what got him clean. You saved his life, Gregory.”

“But John -”

“Wasn’t here for the worst of it.” He held up a placating hand. “I’m not saying the good doctor has not had an enormous impact on my brother’s attitude, but the fact of the matter is, he has never seen Sherlock at his worst. It was  _ you _ who pulled him back from the brink.”

Feeling uncomfortable under the praise, Greg got the conversation back onto the topic of the book. “So, am I allowed to read this? Or do I need to pop it in a locked cabinet somewhere with the other valuable stuff?”

“Books are meant to read, my dear. I would never ask you to lock it away to stay on a shelf forever.”

“Excellent. Mind if I get ready for bed now so I can read for a bit?”

“As you wish.”

Greg giggled and leaned in for a kiss. “And you claim to have no knowledge of pop culture.”

“I only know the good stuff.”

“Inconceivable!”


	17. Saturday, December 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm a bit nervous about this chapter...please don't judge too harshly!

NSY’s Christmas party was in full swing, and for the first time in years, Greg was actually enjoying himself there. It probably had something to do with the very sexy man he had on his arm, and the way that Mycroft was charming the pants off everyone he met. Quite a few people recognised him from around the station, but few had ever had much to do with him, and so they didn’t have any preconceived ideas about what he’d be like. Well, the ones who knew he was Sherlock’s brother  _ may _ have been slightly trepidatious about meeting him, but that was only natural when the narky genius was mentioned. The tall redhead soon won them over, and Greg lost count of how many times he was slapped on the back and told what a good catch he had.

It was still relatively early - just gone 10pm - when Mycroft pulled him to one side. “Can I suggest we make a quick getaway and go to our room?” He’d surprised Greg with a fancy suite at the hotel where the party was being hosted, saying it would be nice to not have to find a cab so late at night.

As much fun as he was having, Greg was very aware that the later it got, the more drunk his colleagues would get, and when offered a choice between watching his mates embarrass themselves, and spending time with his gorgeous partner in a giant bed, there was no competition. He nodded and grabbed his lover’s hand and led him out of the room.

They didn’t speak much as they rode the elevator to their floor. When they made it back to the room, Greg started to loosen his tie, but paused as he saw Mycroft stand nervously by the door. “Myc? What’s wrong?” It was more disconcerting than he’d ever imagined to see the look of uncertainty on the younger man’s face.

“For the first time since I started this project, I am questioning my surprise for you.”

“I thought the room for the night was number 17.”

Shaking his head, Mycroft crossed to the bed and sank down onto it, patting the spot next to him for the DI to join him. “It was part of it, but the rest is supposed to be unfolding in about -” he looked at his watch, “- twelve minutes.”

Greg’s brows furrowed. “Myc, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re starting to worry me. What did you have planned?”

Mycroft folded his hands in his lap, and took a deep breath. “I’m aware that you haven’t been with a woman since your marriage dissolved. I know you are more than happy with me, but I thought that perhaps you might have...missed it.”

“So, what? You planned to dress up for me?” Greg asked, his tone light. “Put on a cute little number and some lacy knickers?”

“No, I arranged for an escort to meet with us for a threesome.”

Greg’s jaw dropped, and it took him a good while to get his mouth closed again. That was the very last thing he had ever expected his partner to say. “You did?” he croaked eventually.

“I know it was probably very presumptuous of me, and I understand if you’re upset. I know I should have discussed this with you before I made the arrangements so you wouldn’t be put in such an awkward position.” Mycroft made a ‘ _ but there you have it _ ’ gesture, unable to meet Greg’s eyes.

“Hey, Myc, look at me.” He cupped his partner’s chin and turned his face so they were facing each other. “First of all, I hope you know that you are  _ all _ I ever need. I haven’t once missed being with a woman. To me, it’s always been about the person, not what’s between their legs.” He pressed a kiss to soft lips. “Having said that, I’ve never had a threesome before and to be honest, it’s something I’ve always fantasised about. But I would never do it if it made you feel uncomfortable. You have no idea what it means to me that you’ve arranged this, but I do worry that it’s not something that you actually want. As much as I’m loving your surprises, I’m not going to risk what we have just so I can tick a box on my bucket list.”

Mycroft smiled and ran his fingers lightly down his cheeks. “Oh, Gregory, I know I have nothing to fear and that I’d never lose you. To be honest, the thought of watching someone else pleasure you while I take you from behind has long been a fantasy of mine. I suppose this scenario was rather to satisfy one of my own desires as much as it was yours.”

“So, you wouldn’t get jealous?” Greg knew that Mycroft had no interest at all in women and wouldn’t interact physically with a third party. He wasn’t sure if the shoe was on the other foot, that he wouldn’t break out into a fit of rage.

“Why would I be jealous? Not to be detrimental to the woman I hired, but we don’t know her. She’s not a friend, or an acquaintance, and although I specified that she be blonde as per your likes, I doubt very much that you’ll have such an instant attraction to each other that you’ll both decide to run off with together. She, brutally speaking, is a tool. I don’t get jealous of the porn stars you enjoy, and I don’t get jealous of the toys we share. Why would I get jealous of this?”

Greg thought about his partner’s words, and could see the Holmesian logic behind it. To a normal person, suggesting a human being and a sex toy were similar would be a vile insult, but to Mycroft, it was about the emotional attachment to each one. He nodded. “Okay, well, as long as you’re sure that this is something that  _ you _ want, then I’m game.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I trust you, Myc. I trust that you’ll take care of me, I trust that you’ll stop if you get uncomfortable, and I trust that you vetted her sufficiently that this will never come back to bite you on the arse and ruin your career.”

HIs partner laughed and it was the most beautiful sight Greg had ever seen. “You know me so well, Gregory. She is from an agency that value discretion and privacy above all. You have nothing to worry about repercussions, for either of us.”

Greg climbed up onto his lover’s lap and pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve really fantasised about this?” he asked, somewhat coyly.

“Oh, yes. To see someone make your knees weak, to get you close to the edge, and then having me be the one to tip you over, is very much appealing to me. To bring you pleasure is all I ever want.”

“Then I want you to control everything tonight, Myc. I want you to direct every touch, dictate every move, make every decision. I want to know that everything I feel is because  _ you _ have orchestrated it. Can you do that for me?”

Mycroft’s breathing was ragged. “Oh, yes.” He pulled Greg’s head down and crushed their lips together, needing to be as close as possible to him.

A knock at the door broke them apart. Greg climbed off him, and helped Mycroft to his feet. Taking a deep breath, the tall man crossed to the door and opened it to reveal a blonde woman dressed in an immaculate suit, a briefcase in one hand. “Mr Holmes?” she asked, holding out a hand. “My name is Irina.”

He shook her hand and gestured for her to come in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Mycroft, and this is Gregory.”

She smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. “Lovely to meet you.”

He gave her an awkward smile back. “Same.”

Irina placed her briefcase down and turned to face them. Greg was suddenly nervous, and he inched closer to Mycroft until he was plastered against him, seeking the comfort of his protection. The blonde noticed and smiled reassuringly at them. “I take it neither of you have done this before?” She nodded as they both indicated they hadn’t. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, and this is all about you. If we do anything that causes either of you discomfort, then we stop for a breather. What I recommend for all couples is that we take five minutes and sit down to discuss what you expect from my time here, what you want, what’s off limits, and any other concerns you might have.”

“That sounds more than reasonable,” Mycroft told her, leading them across to the small round table. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“Some water would be lovely,” she said. 

Greg had sank into his chair, happy for Mycroft to take the lead, and soon he’d retrieved a bottle of water for their guest, and a whiskey for the two of them. “Did you receive my notes?” he asked the woman.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you. It’s always helpful to have a heads up.”

“Notes?” Greg asked.

“When I made the booking, I explained our situation, and a little about our orientations.” 

Nodding, Greg now understood why Irina had shaken Mycroft’s hand but had greeted him with a kiss.

“So, what were you hoping for tonight?”

The redhead took Greg’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I want tonight to be all about Gregory’s pleasure. Between the two of us, I want to make him scream, and I want to make sure he can’t walk tomorrow.”

He’d been half hard from the discussion with Mycroft, but hearing his lover speaking so crassly had him standing rigidly to attention.

Irina grinned. “Oh, I think we can arrange that. Anything else? Greg, do you have any requests?”

He cleared his throat, hoping he didn’t sound as pathetic to them as he did to his own ears. “I’d like for Myc to, um, to direct what we do.”

She nodded. “Of course. So, let’s talk about limits. Mycroft, I assume you don’t want to interact with me at all?”

He shook his head. “I’m aware that...incidental touches will occur, but I’d rather nothing else.”

“Not a problem. Greg, how do you feel about kissing?”

“Erm…”

“When working with couples, most prefer to not kiss on the lips, but don’t mind on other areas of the body, however it’s entirely up to you.”

“Um, yeah, that’s good. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable snogging you, sorry.”

She laughed. “No need to apologise. Do you have any areas that you want me to avoid? Anus, scrotum, nipples?” He shook his head. “Do either of you have any questions?”

The couple shared a look, and Mycroft answered for both of them. “No, I believe we’re good to go.”

“Well, as I said, we can call a timeout at any point. Now, I usually start everyone off with a shower. Do you think we’ll all fit in this one?”

Greg snorted. “It’s the size of a ballroom. I think we’ll fit.”

“Okay then. Mycroft, I’m going to hand over to you now and leave us in your very capable hands.”

He smiled, and then leaned in to kiss Greg gently. He nipped at his lower lip as he pulled back and stood up from his chair. “Gregory, I want you to stand in the centre of the room. Irina, can you please undress him for us?”

They both moved to comply and the DI stood somewhat awkwardly as the blonde loosened his tie the rest of the way. “Relax,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss at his throat. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting across to where his partner was standing. Mycroft smiled at him encouragingly, and he tried to let the tension go. Irina pulled the tie from his neck, and pushed his jacket off his shoulders. She threw it onto one of the chairs, and then started to unbutton his shirt. As each button opened to reveal more skin, she would flick her tongue to the skin, and suck gently. When the last button was undone, she moved around him and pulled it off, then ran her hands lightly over his back. He felt goosebumps break out as her nails scratched lightly on his skin, and then her mouth as she kissed her way across his shoulders. One of her hands reached around and deftly undid his belt buckle, and then the fastening of his trousers. Once the zip was lowered, she pulled them down his legs, taking his boxers with them. He kicked them free, and toed off his socks. Mycroft came to stand in front of him and cupped his cheek. “You are simply stunning, my love.” He kissed him hard, and then took his hand and led him towards the bathroom. 

Irina whistled as she saw the size of the shower stall. “You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Greg turned the water on and got the temperature right, while the other two stripped out of their clothes. He stepped under the spray and they joined him, Mycroft standing behind him, and Irina in front. Passing the small bottle of shower gel between them, the blonde and the redhead lathered up their hands and started rubbing them over Greg’s skin. He allowed his eyes to shut so he could focus on the sensation of having multiple hands caressing him at once. Irina was avoiding his cock for the time being, but Mycroft had no qualms about kneading his arse, running the tip of a finger teasingly over his hole, biting on his ear lobe as he did so. He moaned softly, and turned his head so he could capture his lover in a kiss. Just as Mycroft’s tongue darted inside to dance with his, the blonde wrapped her hand around his cock and Greg’s hips jerked violently. His second moan was swallowed by his partner’s mouth, as he tried to hold himself steady so he didn’t rock into the tight fist.

They finished lathering him up, and as he rinsed off, they both took turns with the gel. Once they were all done, they stepped out of the shower and Greg handed them towels, then grabbed one for himself. “Oh no, my love, let us take care of that,” Mycroft said, pulling it from his hands. He and Irina wrapped themselves in their fluffy towels, and then began the task of drying off Greg. He felt awkward again, but soon relaxed as Mycroft dried off his back, rubbing away the tension from his shoulders, and Irina carefully dried his front. He’d never thought about the activity as being sensual before, but the way they touched and caressed him as they went about the task showed him it could be. He was soon dry and Mycroft instructed him to go into the other room and lie on the bed. 

It wasn’t long before the others joined him, but as well as drying off, his partner had clearly passed along some instructions to the blonde. She came over to the bed and climbed up onto it, straddling Greg’s hips. He hissed as he felt her pussy rub along his cock, the sensation alien after so long. She leaned over him, kissing his chest, and sucking gently on a nipple. Moving steadily down, her face was soon level with his erection.

“Take him as deep as you can, my dear,” Mycroft said from where he stood, watching. “He does so enjoy that.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and she swallowed him down in one go. Greg cried out, his hips bucking up from the bed, but she placed a hand on his stomach to hold him down. Mycroft crossed to the bed and knelt next to Greg’s shoulder, leaning over to kiss him deeply. One of the DI’s hands was urging him to kneel up, and then a hand was on his arse, guiding his cock to his mouth. Mycroft obliged, and sighed as the wet heat of his partner’s mouth was wrapping around his own length. He looked down to watch the blonde at work, and when their eyes met, she winked. 

When Greg didn’t think he could take anymore, Irina pulled off him, and kissed his way down his legs, nuzzling at the sensitive skin of his thighs. Without the distraction of his impending orgasm, he could concentrate more on pleasing his partner, and he sucked Mycroft’s cock greedily down his throat. The soft moan from above made him shiver, and he marvelled that with a single sound, the sexy man above him could affect him so much. 

A few minutes later, Mycroft pulled himself back, and his cock fell from Greg’s mouth with a pop. He smiled at the pout on Greg’s face, and thumbed at the protruding lower lip. “Patience, my love.” He reached over to the bedside table and handed Irina a tube of lube and a glove. “Would you be so kind as to prepare him for me.”

“Of course,” she said, slipping on the glove. Greg heard the snap of the cap and soon he felt the cool gel of the lube against his hole. She circled his hole with her finger, and then pressed inside up to one knuckle. It felt odd with the glove, but Greg understood it was a necessary precaution in this situation. She slowly pressed in deeper, and then added a second finger. By the time she was fucking him with three fingers, Mycroft had rolled on a condom and was stroking himself.

Greg narrowed his eyes at his lover, not quite understanding why he needed protection since he wasn’t going anywhere near the blonde, but then figured it was probably a requirement of the agency. The smirk on Mycroft’s lips told him his lover knew exactly what he was thinking and that he had figured rightly. 

“I think he’s more than ready for you,” Irina said, pulling her fingers out.

“Lovely. Gregory, up on your knees. I’m going to fuck you while Irina uses that lovely mouth of hers to suck your cock.”

“Would you like me to bring him to orgasm?” she asked.

Mycroft looked to Greg for an answer. “I’m guessing yes means a condom, no doesn’t?”

She nodded, looking not at all embarrassed.

“Latex tastes terrible. I’d hate to put you through that,” he said. 

She gave him a smile. “Let’s give you a wet patch to sleep in then.”

Mycroft knelt behind him and he fell to his hands and knees to allow his partner to enter him. He slid inside slowly, gripping Greg’s hips as the tight heat enveloped him. When he was fully seated, he wrapped an arm around the older man’s chest and helped him balance as he leaned back. The angle had Mycroft’s cock rubbing against his prostate, and he cried out as his partner thrust shallowly. 

Irina settled herself on her knees in front of him, and she licked a stripe up his cock, swirling her tongue around the tip. She spread her legs a little wider and trailed a finger down her body, pinching a nipple as she went, reaching down to rub circles on her clit. Greg couldn’t look away, and she grinned at him before taking his cock deep in her mouth.

“That’s it, Gregory,” Mycroft whispered in his ear as he thrust into him. “Enjoy the view.” His fingers held the DI’s hips in a bruising grip, and he bit hard into the muscle of his shoulder.

“Fuck, Myc, yes, like that.”

The harder he was fucked, the deeper his cock was pushed down the blonde’s throat. She swallowed around him, and he cried out as his lover’s cock dragged over his prostate at the same time. Mycroft bit him again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and then kissing the spot afterwards. “Again, Myc. Harder this time. Claim me.”

Happy to oblige, the redhead began biting and sucking until there were a handful of marks dotted across Greg’s broad shoulders.

The nerves from the night, and the new experience had made him last much longer than he normally would have, but soon, even the nerves couldn’t compete with the double sided sensual assault. He reached down to touch Irina, but she had already sensed he was close and was pulling off. “Myc, fuck, I’m close.”

“Good, my love, let’s get you there, shall we?” He reached around his lover and began to stroke him, all the while thrusting as deep as he could. 

Greg’s knees began to tremble, and then they buckled as he shouted and came hard. Mycroft held him through it, even as he had his own orgasm. They sank down on the bed, both breathing hard, as Mycroft whispered loving into his ear.

Once they had calmed down, the three of them climbed out of the bed and dressed, Greg and Mycroft in dressing gowns, and Irina into her suit. Mycroft tapped at his phone, and showed her the screen, confirming her payment had been received by the agency. “It was a pleasure, gentlemen,” she said, kissing Greg on the cheek, and shaking Mycroft’s hand. “If you ever need our services again, I’d be happy for you to ask for me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Mycroft said. “Thank you very much.”

She smiled at them, picked up her briefcase and left. The younger man closed the door and then came to wrap his arms around his partner. “Did you enjoy the experience, my love?”

Greg let his head rest on Mycroft’s chest and laughed quietly. “You could say that. Honestly, Myc, you are the most amazing man I have ever met. That you would do that for me - I’m just blown away. I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Gregory. You mean the world to me.”

The stood together for a little longer and then Greg yawned. “Want a quick shower before bed?” As much as he had enjoyed himself, he didn’t like the idea of going to bed with traces of someone else on his skin.

“That sounds delightful.” 

“Come on then - the sooner we get clean, the sooner I can have that delicious body of yours wrapped around mine. You know it’s my favourite way to fall asleep.”

Mycroft turned him around and gave him a swat on the bottom. “After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the 'rules' are when using an escort, so it's probably very unbelievable but I hope you took them in the spirit they were intended...


	18. Sunday, December 18

They had a late checkout from the hotel, and stopped for brunch on their way home, taking their time and enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. When they finally got home close to lunchtime, Greg knew he couldn’t put off the paperwork he’d brought home on Friday night any longer. With a forlorn expression, he gave his partner a kiss and locked himself away in the study, determined to get on top of it so he didn’t find himself doing it on Christmas day.

Mycroft, most unexpectedly, didn’t have any work to do. International affairs were rather quiet, and he was up to date on his backlogged work. He pottered around the house, doing all the little jobs that had been building up over time but hadn’t become urgent. He made Greg lunch in between dusting the bookshelves, and filing away bills, and then changed the lightbulb in the storage room under the stairs that had blown several weeks back, and drilled in some new screws to hang the painting his partner had given him for his birthday.

When Greg finally emerged from his paperwork cocoon, he found Mycroft in the downstairs bathroom, kneeling in the shower with his shirtsleeves rolled up and a wrench in his hand. He watched quietly as the redhead took the tap apart and deftly changed the washer.

“That has got to be the sexiest thing I have seen in a long time,” he said, grinning as Mycroft let out a small yelp of surprise.

“Gregory!” he said with a glare. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to get half hard.”

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I’m just changing a washer, not doing a strip tease.”

“I know, but it’s always been  _ me  _ who has had to do things like this. It’s a nice change to know that I’m not the only one who gets stuck with these sorts of chores.”

Mycroft reattached the rest of the fittings, and then stood up. He threw his partner a glance, and Greg recognised the look he had before he asked a difficult question. 

“Spit it out, love,” he coaxed when the younger man stayed quiet.

He bit his lip. “I have the feeling that you probably didn't think I was capable of doing things like this.”

Greg furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? You’re the smartest man in Britain - changing a washer isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“Yes, but, let’s be honest - I’m not exactly the first one to jump into the fray when there are...menial...tasks to be done. I just thought you probably expected me to refuse to do this sort of thing.”

He stepped in close and wrapped his arms around his waist. “To be honest, I’d never really given it much thought. It’s not like I sat down and made a list of things I’d think would fall to me when we moved in together. But coming in here to find you doing it wasn’t a surprise to me. I think if I had harboured some subconscious thoughts along those lines, I’d have been pretty shocked. Instead, I just felt turned on seeing you crouched in the shower stall with your sleeves rolled up.” He lifted one pale forearm and pressed a kiss to it. “You know how much I adore your arms.”

Mycroft looked sheepish. “I guess I was being quite childish.”

He shook his head. “No, love. I’d prefer you checked with me what I thought of stuff like this. It’s something I think you’d dwell on and get yourself worked up about.”

He sighed and dropped his head to Greg’s chest. “You know me so well.”

“For such a brilliant man, you  _ do _ seem to have some odd insecurities. But that’s okay, I’m a weirdo too, so we match at least.”

“I’m not a weirdo, Gregory,” he said with a pout.

Greg laughed and kissed his extended bottom lip. “Yeah, you are, but I love you anyway. Now, what are our plans for tonight? Unless there was an 18 carved on that tap, I’m guessing you have something in mind?”

“I do. I’ve arranged it for 7pm.”

“Do I need to get dressed up?”

“Not at all. We’re staying in, so be as casual as you like.”

Greg checked his watch. “OKay, so I’ve got an hour. If the water is ready to be turned back on, I might nip upstairs for a shower and a shave.”

“Give me five minutes and you’ll once again have the first world amenity of running water.”

oOoOo

Greg took his time in the bathroom, and spent some time ironing his clothes for the following day so he wouldn’t have to do it in the morning. He heard the doorbell ring just before seven, but didn’t head downstairs until it was dead on the hour. He knew that Mycroft enjoyed the reveal and he didn't want to spoil it for him. 

He found his partner in the lounge room and spread out on the coffee table in front of the couch was takeout from his favourite Thai place. His eyes lit up as he saw several dishes he loved, and when his partner handed him a glass of wine, he leaned in for a kiss. “You really do spoil me.”

“You deserve it. But it’s not just dinner - tonight is about relaxing so I have a movie for us to watch.”

“Yay! Movie night!” 

The younger man laughed at Greg’s enthusiastic fist pump and pulled him down to sit on the couch. He handed over a plate and then hit play on the DVD player. The opening scene of  _ Fellowship of the Ring _ began to play and he laughed at the whoop of joy from next to him.

“Thai food, Lord of the Rings,  _ and _ getting to cuddle on the couch with you - this is a fantastic night!”

By the time the movie was finished and they were crawling into bed with sleep heavy eyes, Greg pulled Mycroft close and held him tight, determined never to let his angel go.


	19. Monday, December 19

“Hey, Myc, I’m home!” Greg called as he emptied his pockets and dumped his keys and wallet on the side table. It was later than normal since he’d taken his immediate team out for dinner to say a private thanks to them for all their hard work over the past year. He did it every year, distinctly saying it was _not_ a Christmas thing, just a way to express his gratitude, but he had to admit that he didn’t mind overly much this time when they spoke of little else than their plans for the holiday. He really was going soft on the season. And speaking of, the reason for his mellowing was coming down the stairs. He smiled up at his partner, thinking to himself how cuddly he looked wrapped up in a thick dressing gown. “Bit cold, love?” he asked, sliding his hands over slim hips and pulling him close so he could kiss him.

Mycroft just smiled coyly back and took him by the hand, leading him upstairs. Greg followed eagerly, wondering just what was in store for him for today’s surprise. When the reached the bedroom, the younger man guided Greg to sit on the edge of the bed and then stood in front of him, bracketed by the DI’s knees. “Number 19 is a bit off the cuff,” he said softly, trailing the backs of his fingers over the stubble on his lover’s cheek.

“I thought you had everything planned out down to the tiniest detail,” Greg said, slightly surprised.

“I did,” Mycroft said, nodding. “But then you said something on Saturday night that gave me an idea. I thought maybe you’d rather like this...”

Greg watched in anticipation as Mycroft slowly undid the ties on the robe and then shrugged it off his shoulders. The robe fell to the floor and his breath hitched as he took in the sight of his lover. He reached up a hand and traced his way down from Mycroft’s collar bone, over the boned corset, tightly laced and pulling his waist in unnaturally small, down over the pale pink, lacy knickers that bulged obscenely around his cock and balls, and then over the creamy skin of his thighs to the garters that encircled them. He swallowed hard. “Oh, fuck, Myc, I do. I like it very much.”

The younger man’s cheeks had tinged pink, but he visibly relaxed as he noticed his lover’s enthusiastic response. Greg’s hands slipped to the small of his back and pulled him forward, and he tipped his face up so he could gaze lovingly up at Mycroft. “The fact that you would do this for me...it’s so hot. Fuck, I want to just lick every inch of you.”

There was a definite twitch of interest beneath the underwear and Greg pulled Mycroft down until he was lying on the bed. He knelt over him, his eyes adoring as he drank in the sight beneath him. “I’m glad it pleases you,” Mycroft said, gasping as Greg sucked a nipple into his mouth.

“I had no idea it would,” the older man admitted. He lapped at the hardened nub under his lips. “I don’t know how you do it, but you seem to be able to see every kink that’s hiding in the far corners of my mind.”

“I’m sure I’m bound to do something sooner or later that won’t hit the mark.”

“And if you do, at least we’ve discovered a many number of naughty activities we can do instead.”

“I’ve been cataloguing them religiously.”

Greg grinned. “I bet. I’d best get on with this then, to give you something to add to that sexy catalogue.” He then proceeded to carry out his promise and he licked, kissed, and nipped his way along every unclothed inch of the pale body beneath him. Of course, he saved the best for last and by the time he had finished mapping everywhere else and hovered above the hard and leaking cock that was straining against the confines of the lacy, pink knickers, Mycroft was a quivering mess.

“Gregory. _Please_ ,” the politician whimpered.

“But I like hearing the sounds you make as I slowly drive you wild,” Greg replied evilly, nosing at the hot skin under the lace.

Mycroft’s back arched and he whined. “Darling, I’m begging you.”

“Oh, I _suppose_ I could gobble you up now,” he acquiesced. “Considering all the trouble you’ve gone to make yourself so delicious for me tonight.” He didn’t bother removing the underwear, just settled for pulling it down so it sat bunched under his lover’s bollocks. They were almost dripping wet with pre-come and the head of Mycroft’s cock was dark red, the silky flesh quivering in anticipation. He dragged his tongue across the tip, swiping away the fluid gathered there and swallowing it down. He hummed in appreciation, the sound meshing with the moan that escaped his partner’s lips to create their own, personal song. He then relaxed his jaw and took the hard member as deep as he could, stopping only when his gag reflex threatened to kick in. Greg used his tongue to lick at the shaft as it slid in and out of his mouth, his fingers curling around the last several inches that didn’t fit in his mouth.

The sounds that Mycroft was making were going straight to Greg’s cock, and he considered unzipping so he could take care of himself, but managed to hold back. A rather alluring image had crossed his mind, and he had other plans for how he would get off. Ignoring the persistent throbbing of his cock, he concentrated on his lover’s pleasure, using every trick he knew to have him begging beneath him. He knew when Mycroft was close, and he upped the ante, taking him right to the edge and waiting for him to fall. And then as his cock twitched and his balls pulled up, Greg pulled his mouth away and used his hands to milk Mycroft’s orgasm from him. Ropey strands of come painted the delicate material of the corset, with a spurt making it as far as the hollow in his throat. He gazed down at the sight of his thoroughly debauched lover and trailed a finger through the wetness pooling at the base of his neck. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re so fucking perfect, Myc.” Eyelashes fluttered open and pale blue eyes, glazed with pleasure met his. They didn’t speak, just shared the intimate moment lost in each other’s eyes.

Eventually, Mycroft shifted, intending to grab some tissues to clean himself up with, but Greg stopped him by clasping his wrist. “Oh, no you don’t. On your knees,” he growled, his voice low and throaty.

Mycroft’s eyes widened and he instantly rolled off the bed and onto the plush carpet. Greg stood and unzipped his trousers, pulling his cock free but otherwise, remaining fully dressed. He looked down at the sight before him and almost had to pinch himself to convince himself that it was real. The British Government, looking thoroughly fucked, his hair disheveled, and covered in come, eagerly opening his mouth to swallow down his cock. Greg’s eyes threatened to close at just how fucking fantastic that mouth felt but he forced them to stay open, to drink in the vision before him. He was close already, and internally cursed Mycroft and his sexiness. He’d never before had an issue with coming too soon, but the man before him got him so bloody worked up, he felt like a teenager again. After all the sex they’d been having this month, he should have been able to go the distance, but instead he was forcing himself to hold back. To make matters worse, his partner obviously knew the effect he was having, and he managed to smirk around the mouthful of cock he had.

“You’re pretty fucking pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Greg said, hoarsely. Mycroft looked up so their eyes met, and paused in his ministrations to give a distinct nod. A self assured and cocky nod. Greg curled his fingers into the soft red hair and held his lover’s head still, the started to fuck that pretty little mouth with abandon. Mycroft hummed happily and the vibrations made Greg gasp in pleasure. He watched as his cock disappeared down the slender throat, the drying pool of come bobbing up and down as he was fucked. Having thought it only a myth before knowing him, Mycroft then swallowed around the shaft, his throat muscles clamping around the hot flesh. It had the effect it always had on Greg and he cried out as he came, pulsing into the warm mouth. Mycroft swallowed it all down, and then licked him clean, releasing him only as Greg’s oversensitive flash began to protest.   
They remained where there were, Greg’s fingers loosening and carding their way gently through the soft hair. Mycroft leaned his head against the DI’s thigh, nuzzling at the skin, and humming contentedly.

They eventually gathered themselves, and Greg helped his partner to his feet. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close, pressing a soft kiss to swollen lips. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“I take it you’d like me to hold on to these then?” The taller man gestured down at the outfit.

Greg grinned. “Oh, yes please.” He laughed. “Though whatever your drycleaner will think is a mystery.”

Mycroft looked smug. “Which is why I’ll throw it in with the items that Anthea will drop off for me.”

Laughing, Greg tightened his grip. “You’re an evil man, Mr Holmes.”

“And you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Never change, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit behind for this one and only just finished it before posting (and I'm rushing off to work now). I haven't even proofed this so apologies if there are errors. I'll have a read through again tonight once I'm home and fix anything major x


	20. Tuesday, December 20

Greg was just walking in the door when his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID before he answered. “Hi, love. Where are you? I just got in the door.”

“One of my meetings ran late so I’m going to have a shower here and get ready before I swing by home to pick you up.”

Greg nodded to himself. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll jump in the shower myself now then. What’s the dress code for tonight?”

“No need to get dressed up - it’s nowhere fancy.”

“Hmmm, okay then.”

Mycroft laughed. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say that your definition of not fancy and mine aren’t exactly the same. I think I’ll go for my best jeans and a nice shirt.”

“Whatever you’ll be most comfortable in. I’d better go. I should arrive home to pick you up in about forty five minutes.”

“No worries. See you then,” Greg rang off. He left his phone on the hall table along with his wallet and keys and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Once he’d showered, he took a few minutes to decide what to wear. He hadn’t been downplaying the differences between their definitions. Mycroft had once told him to dress as casual as he liked as they were just going to a barbeque. He ended up arriving at a fancy soiree in a posh neighbourhood in ripped jeans and an old t shirt. He’d been mortified and Mycroft had been hard pressed to keep him from slipping out and running away in shame. He’d not been able to relax the entire afternoon, and had been worried he’d mortally offended their hostess. He’d apologised profusely to Lady Constance, and even when she dismissed his concerns as being trivial, he was _still_ worried as he mingled with the guests lazing about in their three piece suits. She had taken pity on him, and had asked him if he could help her inside with a job she’d needed a strong back for. He’d hoped it didn’t look like the flight it was as he gratefully accepted her offer of retreat and dashed into the house to help move some heavy crates in the basement. Mycroft had ventured inside after him and had spent the next half an hour - along with Lady Constance, her three daughters, and several of their friends, ogling Greg as he heaved crates around, his muscles straining against his t shirt. Once he had finished, they were rather hopeful to find him some more jobs to do, and despite feeling uncomfortable under their intense scrutiny, it was still preferable to mingling with the well dressed nobs outside.

He laughed a little at the memory and pulled out a lovely shirt he’d not had many opportunities to wear. It was a dark blue with faint black stripes running through it, and with his dark blue jeans, he knew it would pass muster at any of Mycroft’s ‘casual’ venues. He shrugged on his black leather jacket and spiked his hair with a smidge of product, timing it perfectly when he pocketed his wallet and phone just as the headlights of the black town car flashed across the front window. He locked up, then turned to find Mycroft coming up the front walk to greet him. He stood with his mouth gaping open, drinking in the sight of his lover. Mycroft normally stuck to his suits when they were out and about, and even when he was at home he dressed down by losing the waistcoat and tie. It was rare for him to dress completely casually, and Greg forgot just how sexy he was when he did. He was standing before him in well fitting jeans, and a nice burgundy jumper with a white shirt underneath, the collar standing out in stark relief against the dark colour of the wool.   
“Hi,” Greg said, a little breathlessly as he drank him in.

“Hello,” Mycroft murmured, ducking his head to give him a kiss. “Shall we?”

They hurried over to the car and slid into the warm interior. “So, where are we off to tonight?” he asked.

“Did you really expect that to work?” his lover asked with a smirk.

“No, not really, but worth a shot.” He grinned.

Mycroft laughed and lay a hand on his arm. “It’s not far. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

True to work, the black car was soon pulling up outside of...a very ordinary looking pub. Greg looked at it in surprise as the taller man guided him out of the car and towards the entrance. Once inside, he was led towards a back room filled with tables and a stage set up along the far wall, where various instruments were set up on it, including a piano and bongo drums. Half the tables were already occupied and Mycroft took his hand and pulled him across to one at the front near the stage. He raised an eyebrow in disbelief as he took in the banner hanging from the ceiling. “Open mic night?”

“And dinner,” Mycroft replied with aplomb.

“Okay then.” He sat down, utterly confused as to why Myc would bring him here. It was the last place he’d think he’d ever see the politician. Having been to a few open mics before, Greg knew they could be cringeworthy (though to be honest, that was the main reason he and his mates came) and so he didn’t quite see the appeal in making this part of his month of surprises. Having said that, he still had no clue as to how his lover’s mind worked most of the time, so he relaxed back into his seat and determined to go just with the flow for the night.

They ordered a meal, and the DI tucked heartily into the pub fare. The dishes were a little too heavy for Mycroft’s usual tastes, but he valiantly pushed through it. Soon, the tables filled with patrons and then an MC was walking out onto the stage. “Welcome!” he called in greeting, and a hush fell over the crowd. “Thanks for coming to our last open mic night before Christmas! It’s great to see you all here, and since we have a full card tonight, I’ll spare you my warm up act.” A rowdy table towards the back cheered at this and from the easy grin on the MC’s face, they were obviously regulars who liked to heckle him good naturedly. “First up, please give a warm welcome to Linda, Tracy, Carly, and Joyce!”

Greg and Mycroft clapped politely as the four women came onstage, and soon they had arranged themselves around the mic stand. They began to sing and Greg turned to glare at his partner. They were singing Christmas carols. The younger man shrugged, and turned back to watch them while Greg took a healthy swallow of his beer to fortify him. In the end, the women weren’t too bad. They did several mashups of carols, and sang in a round for a few of them, and Greg had to grudgingly admit to himself that it wasn’t entirely horrible. Of course, there was no way in hell he was going to admit that to Mycroft. He clapped them off stage and then the MC was back.

“Thank you, ladies! Next up is Geoff on the bongos!” There were cheers and wolf whistles and it seemed the young man was a regular on the night. He sat and started tapping out a rhythm, and soon he his hands were flying over the skins, the beat he was producing thrumming through Greg’s veins until he was sure his heart was beating in time to it. He was grinning as it came to an end and joined in with the enthusiastic applause as the young man waved and walked off.

“Awesome as ever, Geoff! Now I’d like to introduce Stan the Man!”

And on it went. Stan the Man did a comedy routine that was every bit as cringeworthy as Greg had expected, then came a duo with their guitars, another comedy act much better than the first, a young lass with an extraordinary voice, and then a truly horrendous poetry recital. It was at this point that Mycroft excused himself to the loo and the DI chuckled at his escape. He didn’t think Mycroft knew just how bad some of the performers could be and it had apparently gotten too much.

Greg finished off his beer and, since he was right at the front, made the effort to clap for the talentless poet who was getting heckled from the table at the back. The MC appeared again, giving the poor soul a sympathetic pat on the back. “Thank, Travis. Now we get to put our piano to use. Please welcome on stage, Mike!”

To Greg’s utter surprise, Mycroft walked onto the stage and sat himself at the piano. His partner sat himself on the stool and their choice of table was now obvious since he had a direct line of sight to the silver haired DI in the audience. He looked directly at him and smiled, then pulled the microphone towards him. “This is for you, Gregory. Number twenty.”

He began to play, his long fingers delicately skipping across the keys, a low melodious sound that made Greg’s breath catch. And then the younger man began to sing, and the DI was entranced.

_I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy._

_I'll be your hope, I'll be your love be everything that you need._

_I love you more with every breath truly madly deeply do.._

_I will be strong I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on A new beginning._

_A reason for living. A deeper meaning._

_I want to stand with you on a mountain._

_I want to bathe with you in the sea._

_I want to lay like this forever._

_Until the sky falls down on me_

Greg had had no idea that Mycroft could sing. It was never something he’d done before - he didn’t even sing along when he put on his favourite music at home. His voice was smooth like honey, and perfectly pitched, and if Greg wasn’t so enamoured with his partner right now, he’d be jealous as fuck because it wasn’t fair that one person could be so damn talented at everything they do.   
Mycroft’s eyes closed as he sang, pouring his heart into the song, the feeling behind it clear as day.

_And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,_

_I'll make a wish send it to heaven then make you want to cry_

_The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty._

_That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of_

_The highest power. In lonely hours. The tears devour you_

_I want to stand with you on a mountain,_

_I want to bathe with you in the sea._

_I want to lay like this forever,_

_Until the sky falls down on me_

No one witnessing this would ever imagine that the man before them was labelled ‘The Iceman’. The words were heavy with feeling and when he opened his eyes and locked them with Greg’s, the love and devotion in them was obvious. The older man gazed adoringly back, not caring in the slightest that he must look like a lovestruck teenager.   
_I_ _'ll be your dream I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy._

_I'll be your hope I'll be your love be everything that you need._

_I'll love you more with every breath truly madly deeply do_

The song came to end end and the room erupted in cheers. Mycroft’s cheeks tinged pink as he suddenly seemed to realise he was in public. He hurried off the stage, but not before the MC could clap him on his back. “Wow. I must say, Greg, you’re a lucky guy! Rightio, moving onto our next act, please welcome Susan and Chee!”

Greg didn’t notice the couple coming up on stage - he only had eyes for Mycroft as the younger man weaved his way through the tables back to his seat. Once he had sat, Greg leaned across and kissed him hard. “You are just too amazing for words, do you know that?” he murmured.

“You flatter me, Gregory.”

“No, I’m honest with you. You have no idea how much I bloody well love you.”

“Perhaps you can try and show me when we get home?”

“Oh, I will be. I’m as hard as a rock right now. You can’t get up there and sing _like that_ and not expect my dick to not notice.”

The younger man rolled his eyes. “You’re so crass.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You fucking love it when I tell you about my dick getting hard for you.”

“And so romantic…”

They dissolved into giggles, and Greg leaned against Mycroft as they turned to watch the remaining acts. An arm snaked its way around his waist and he sighed happily, content in the knowledge he had thawed The Iceman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song he was singing was 'Truly Madly Deeply' by Savage Garden.


	21. Wednesday, December 21

When Greg got the call that his partner needed to see him at his office for an urgent work matter, he dropped everything and headed straight over. He racked his brain, trying to figure out if any of his open cases might have a secret government connection, but he couldn’t see any being likely candidates. He figured it must be something that Mycroft had been dealing with from his end and needed the assistance of NSY with.

It wasn’t a long drive at all, in fact he usually walked, but today he’d felt the need to hurry. Mycroft hadn’t called himself - it had been Anthea, so whatever it was must have been keeping the politician busy. He snagged a park just down from the entrance to the government building and hustled inside. 

He’d been there often enough that he had his own access card, but he was still required to sign in and go through security. He emptied his keys and wallet into a small tray, and stepped through the gate, before re-pocketing his things.

“Thank you, Detective Inspector,” the security guard said. “By the way, this was left for you here by Mr Holmes.” 

Greg took the small white envelope with the 21 on the front, and automatically slowed his steps as he walked to the elevator. If he was being left one of these cards, it was more likely he was here for personal business. The doors opened, and he stepped inside the car, hitting the button for the top floor. He slid his finger under the seal and pulled out the card.

_ I want you to fuck me over my desk, Detective Inspector _

He stared at the neat handwriting, wondering if he was reading it right. He’s always harboured a desire to have sex in Mycroft’s office, but that had been a sticking point for the government man. They would kiss, and he’d allow heavy petting, but as soon as Greg tried to take it further, he’d put a stop to it. He had explained that he just didn't feel comfortable being intimate when Anthea would know, without a doubt, what they had been up to, and there had been nothing Greg could say to convince him otherwise.

It appeared that this was his week for having his fantasies fulfilled.

The elevator reached its floor and Greg walked towards Mycroft’s office. Anthea was sitting at her desk in the small antechamber and she smirked at him. “Go on through, Detective Inspector. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

He winked at her. “You’re a doll.”

She laughed and waved him through the door, pointedly pulling out a pair of headphones. He grinned and sauntered into the office.

Mycroft was sitting at his desk, looking composed and professional as usual. “Gregory,” he greeted, the slight waver to his voice the only giveaway that he was as excited about their meeting.

“Hello, love. Or should I say, Mr Holmes? It sounded terribly official when I was called over.”  Mycroft’s breath caught and Greg knew he’d hit on the right kink. He strolled across to the desk and leaned over it, putting his mouth close to the redhead’s ear. “It seems you have quite a serious problem, Mr Holmes. How can Scotland Yard help you today?”

“I require you to...look into a matter for me.” His voice was almost a whimper.

“I see. Bit of a  _ hard _ case? Need quite a bit of digging?”

“Yes.”

“Need to go quite  _ deep _ ?”

“Quite.”

“Luckily for you I’m quite adept at probing into these sorts of things.”

“That’s why I called for you, Detective Inspector.”

Greg walked around the desk and pulled Mycroft to his feet. His cock jumped when he saw his lover was naked from the waist down. “I’m always happy to be of assistance, Mr Holmes.” He cupped the back of the redhead’s neck and pulled him down, kissing him deeply. His other hand wrapped around to stroke at the soft skin on the small of his back. He pushed his tongue in, licking his way deep into the wet warmth, and swallowed the moan that Mycroft made. He pulled back, and spun his lover around, pushing him so his hands were braced on the desk. He used his feet to nudge his legs wider, and ran a hand down the back of the suit jacket and then over the warm skin of the slender arse. 

“I see you’re already for me,” he said, his finger slipping over slicked entrance. 

“I knew our time would be short.”

“Better not waste a minute of it then.” He undid his zip and pulled his hard cock from his trousers, lined himself up, and pushed slowly inside, being careful since it had been almost a week since the younger man had bottomed. He hissed as he felt himself surrounded by the tight, hot muscle and forced himself to pause, to get control of the need to fuck him hard.

It seemed though, that Mycroft wanted to be fucked hard.

“I’m not going to break, Gregory.  _ Move _ !”

He didn't need to be told twice and he took a firm hold of the slim hips just visible under the jacket. It was quiet without the slap of skin on skin, and the fact they were making an effort to be silent. It only seemed to intensify the experience, and his other senses seemed to be hyper aware. He could smell clearly the spicy scent of Mycroft’s cologne, mixed with the smell of strong tea, and sex. He watched as the skin at the back of Mycroft’s neck flushed pink, and his pale hands slid over the dark mahogany of the desk. He started to pull Mycroft back against him, increasing the depth of his thrusts, causing the desk to shake and a stack of papers to slip over and spill over the desk.

“Oh, yes, fuck me hard, Detective Inspector.”

Greg’s breath was coming in ragged gasps now and his calf muscles were beginning to burn, but he pulled out some extra effort and drove in harder. He could feel the tightness building in his balls and the base of his spine and soon it uncurled and he cried out as he filled his lover.

He fell against Mycroft’s back, breathing hard and pressing kisses to the expensive fabric. Once he had caught his breath, he pulled out and reached for the box of tissues that had been conveniently placed nearby. He cleaned the younger man up as best he could and then spun him around. He dropped to his knees, and nuzzled his face against the long, slender cock that was still standing rigidly to attention. He licked at the head, lapping at the pre-come that was glistening on the tip. A hand was curled into his hair, and Greg swallowed his partner down, running his tongue along the length as he did.

Mycroft was already close and it wasn’t long before he was gasping quietly as he came. Licking him clean, Greg pressed a few kisses to the pale stomach and then stood up. They kissed lazily for a few moments, enjoying the chance to be so close in the middle of their working days.

“I’d better be getting back,” Greg said with a sigh.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Myc. This was great.”

“I did rather enjoy it. Of course, I’ll have to put up with Anthea’s knowing looks for the next month but it was worth it.”

“Enough to do it again sometime?”

“Honestly, Gregory, how many Christmases do you want?”


	22. Thursday, December 22

Before Greg left the office for the day he nipped to the bathroom and took a little time to freshen up. Mycroft had asked him if he would accept a lift in one of the town cars that morning so he could be picked up after work. He wouldn’t give any further information so Greg could only assume that his surprise for the day would be either a night out, or a repeat of an earlier surprise in which his partner had eased the stresses of his day with a rather nice BJ. He doubted it would be the second since his very thoughtful partner had not shown any tendency to reuse ideas, but it didn’t hurt either way to wash his face and try and smooth out the more wrinkly areas of his suit.

The car was waiting when he left the office and other than the driver, was empty. “Detective Inspector,” the driver greeted him with a nod.

“Hi, Paul. How’s your day been?” He’d easily learned the names of the drivers that rotated through their service and always made a point to ask how they were. It helped ease his conscience about being chauffeured around.

“Other than the challenge of negotiating London traffic this close to Christmas, it’s been rather uneventful.”

“I do not envy you that,” Greg said with a grimace. “I’d have gone postal long before now and would be having punch-ups at every set of lights.”

Paul laughed. “Don’t tell Mr Holmes, but I may have come close to that a few times this week.”

“Just tell the arresting officer to give me a call and I’ll get it sorted.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Anytime. So, do you know where we’re off too?”

“I can tell you that we’re heading to one of the more upscale entertainment districts but I am under strict instructions not to tell you exactly where until we arrive.”

“I guess I should have expected that.”

They chatted about Paul’s kids and their plans for Christmas until they came to a stop outside of a restaurant Greg hadn’t been to before. “Here we are. This is for you.” He handed over a small envelope. “Just give me a call when you’re done and I’ll be round to pick you up.”

“Cheers mate, I appreciate that.” Greg climbed from the car and watched as the car drove away, then slid his finger under the seal. He pulled out the small card and read:

_ 22 – The reservation is under Lestrade _

He looked again at the restaurant and hoped the suit he’d spent the day in would pass muster at such a place. He decided to not worry too much since when compared to Mycroft he’d look like he’d been scraped from the bottom of a gutter, even if he was wearing the best suit he owned. He stopped by the concierge’s desk and gave his name and was led through the restaurant. He scanned the room, looking for the familiar mop of auburn hair and was so busy trying to see his partner that he didn’t realise they’d stopped in front of a table. He looked down in surprise. “Mum!”

His mother grinned and stood to give him a hug. “Greg, it’s so lovely to see you.”

“What are you doing here? In town, I mean. I thought you were going to France for Christmas?”

She sat back down and took a sip of the wine she had already ordered. “I will be. Mycroft was a bit upset that you wouldn’t get to see me over the holiday so he arranged for me to come up here tonight. I’ll fly out tomorrow.”

Greg could only shake his head in wonder. How he had found someone who cared so deeply for him, he had no idea. “I’m completely blown away. It’s so good to see you – it’s been  _ months _ .”

“And probably would have been longer if not for that man of yours. We’re horrible failures at keeping in touch, son.”

“Aww, we don’t do  _ too _ badly, do we? We talk on the phone at least once a week.”

“Mycroft knows the value of spending actual time together though. He was very determined to find a date that worked for me. Do me a favour and keep hold of this one?”

He could feel himself blushing slightly but was secretly pleased that his mother approved so much of his partner. He’d never told her about his younger days of experimenting so it had come as a bit of a surprise when she found out he was seeing a bloke. She had quickly put that aside and was supportive, and when Greg told her that it was getting serious, she had come for a holiday to get to know Mycroft. They had gotten on extremely well, even ganging up on Greg a few times. He took it as a good sign and didn’t get too upset about their constant ribbing of him. He had to admit that since then, it had mainly been because of Mycroft that he remembered to phone regularly and to send birthday and mother’s day cards. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want _ to do those things, it was just that Lestrades were notorious for their ability of keeping in touch. If it was just one of them who was a bit useless it probably wouldn’t have mattered, but it was a family trait so they were doomed to fail from the start.

They spent a nice couple of hours chatting and catching up on all the family gossip. It started to get late and so Greg called for the bill, rolling his eyes when he was told it had already been settled. They walked outside and Greg saw Paul parked on the road. He held the door open for his mum and then they drove the short distance to the hotel she was staying at.

“Are you sure you won’t stay with us for the night?”

“Thanks, Greg, but my flight is very early in the morning. I don’t want you being up at the crack of dawn on my account.”

“Well next time you’re here, you’ll have to stay.”

“Of course – I always enjoy my time with you boys. Enjoy your Christmas, Greg and give my love to Mycroft.” She kissed his cheek and then waved as she headed into the lobby. He nodded to Paul and they headed back to his own house.

The only light on besides the foyer was the bedroom and so Greg headed straight up there. Mycroft was in bed, a stack of files and papers on his lap and a cup of tea on the bedside table. He smiled as Greg came in and closed the open file. “Gregory, did you have a good time?”

He climbed up onto the bed and kissed his partner. “It was great. Thank you so much for arranging it. Mum and I both had a really good time.”

“I’m so very pleased to hear that. It pains me how little you get to see of her.”

Greg sighed and slumped down next to Mycroft. “I know. It only really hit me tonight just how much she’s getting on now. I mean, she still jets off all over the place, but how long can she keep that up for? She’s already 71 – I mean, when did  _ that _ happen?”

“One of the reasons I encourage you to see her as often as you can. I’m hopeful that she may consider moving closer to us when she decides it’s time to settle down and enjoy her retirement in a smaller geographical area.”

“Good luck getting her to agree to that. She’s not a big fan of city life, love.”

“Closer does not necessarily mean in the city. There are many quieter places that are just out of London.”

“True. Maybe we can bring it up next time we see her?”

“Of course. Are you ready for bed? It’s rather late.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to have a quick shower then I’ll be in. Gotta be rested for whatever tomorrow brings.”

Mycroft smiled at his enthusiasm. It was obvious he was chuffed at how much Greg was enjoying Christmas this year. “An outstanding plan, my dear.”

Greg gave him a quick kiss before he jumped off the bed. “Honestly, it’s been great. Three more days to go – I really can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

After he’d left, Mycroft allowed himself to breathe out, dispelling the nerves that were beginning to dance in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to see how Greg responded to his last few surprises. He just hoped his love would be as happy with what he had in store as he’d been for everything so far. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep! Only three more to go!


	23. Friday, December 23

The mood at the Yard was mixed the closer it got to 5pm. For the ones who had the weekend free, they were starting to wind down and there was high anticipation about the holiday. For the poor buggers who would be on duty over the weekend, and therefore Christmas, there was trepidation and despair. Greg the Grinch may have taken his own holiday this year but Greg the Realist was very much present. He knew that people did stupid things at Christmas and he was very much looking forward to  _ not _ being part of the rota that would be called out to a family domestic where Gran drank too much brandy and called cousin Ted’s wife a whore, causing fists to fly.

Yet again, Mycroft had asked Greg to leave his car at home so he could be picked up and he’d spent most of the day wondering what they would be doing. He just hoped his partner wasn’t going to drag him along to any Christmas carols. Greg the Grinch would most definitely be paying a visit home if  _ that _ catastrophe was going to occur.

There was little to hand over to the night shift so Greg sent his team home early. Half an hour wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things but for those with families it would mean a lot. He spent the last thirty minutes tidying away some paperwork odds and ends and then headed outside to meet Mycroft.

He’d been expecting one of the sleek, town cars and was surprised to see Mycroft’s personal car, a black BMW M3, parked out front, with its leggy driver leaning casually against the passenger door. His partner grinned at him and gave him a peck on the lips before holding the door open for him. Greg climbed into the warm interior and soon they were making their way out of London.

The younger man didn’t say where they were going so Greg didn't ask, just spoke about his day instead and enquired after Mycroft’s. They had been driving for well over an hour, leaving the city and daylight behind them when his partner pulled off the main road onto a small track. Several minutes later they came to a small carpark at the top of some cliffs overlooking the ocean. Greg gasped as he took in the view; the waning crescent of the moon over the dark waters, the white froth on the waves as they broke over a small reef, the sheer beauty of it all. They climbed from the car and walked towards the cliff face, and Mycroft’s gloved hand came up to clasp his as they stood in silence, enjoying the moment.

“It’s stunning,” Greg finally said.

Mycroft wrapped an arm around his waist. “I love it here. I thought it would be somewhere you enjoyed as well.”

“Honestly, it’s perfect. Thank you for 23.”

“We’re not  _ just _ here for the view, Gregory. Did you honestly expect to drive all this way for a quick look and then turn around and go back?”

He shrugged. “This is a million pound view! It would be worth the drive just for a peek.” He shivered a little in the chill air and his lover took him by the elbow to guide him back to the car. Once Greg was back inside in the warm, Mycroft retrieved a basket from the boot and joined him. 

“Dinner,” he announced, and started to pull out containers full of chicken salad. He passed over one, along with a fork to Greg and then pulled out two small bottles of sparkling wine as well as two tiny plastic wine glasses. A quick search showed the attachable stems were missing and a  fierce debate raged over his face.

Greg couldn’t help but laugh. “We can rough it for one night, Myc. Just drink out of the bottles.”

It took a monumental effort for Mycroft to accede the point but he finally uncorked the two small bottles. In a support of solidarity, Greg plucked one of the bottles from his hand and took a swig from it, sighing lustily after he’d swallowed. The younger man looked at him in shock, his nose crinkling at the antics and the DI laughed again but chose not to comment.

They ate their meal and then finished off the wine as they enjoyed the view. Once they’d finished and had packed everything back into the basket, Mycroft turned to Greg with a serious expression on his face. “I have a question for you, my dear, and I would like you to give it your most staunch consideration before you answer.”

Greg swallowed hard, and he admitted to himself that he was slightly nervous. Finally he nodded his agreement.

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade - will you join me in the backseat for a little snogging?”

They looked at each other for several long moments and then both burst into giggles. “I would be most delighted,” Greg answered, trying to sound as staunch as possible.

They hopped out of the front seats and Mycroft put the basket back in the boot before joining his lover in the back. Once they were both seated, Mycroft scooted closer to Greg and cupped his cheek. He leaned in and began a long, sensual kiss and Greg got completely lost in it. Much too soon, the younger man broke the kiss by leaning back. “It’s been too long since we’ve just kissed for the sake of kissing. We usually use it as a means to an end, which is wonderful in its own right, but...when I was planning this little project, I wrote a list of things that I enjoy doing with you. I didn’t want - and I hope I succeeded - for this to be  _ all _ about sex.” His blue eyes had turned a stormy grey in the pale moonlight. “When we first started seeing each other, we took it slowly, and we spent a lot of time just kissing. And it was glorious, Gregory. I miss that so much and so my hope for tonight - for number 23 - is that we can just sit here and make out like horny teenagers. Is that alright with you?”

His cock had been swelling from how hot the kiss had been, but Greg’s heart swelled even bigger. Old age must have turned him into a sappy fucking bastard because making the man in front of him happy was all he wanted to do. If that meant snogging in the back seat of his fancy BMW and keeping his dick in his pants, then he was more than happy to do just that. “That’s more than fucking alright, love.” He pulled the younger man to him and captured him in a kiss that made his toes tingle. 

It was very much alright.

 


	24. Saturday, December 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and very sweet today :)

At some point over the past month, Greg and Mycroft had managed to buy presents for their nearest and dearest. What they hadn’t found time to do was wrap them. They were having Sherlock and John, Mrs Hudson, Molly, and Anthea round for Christmas lunch and would be so busy cooking and setting up that they really only had today left to do it.

Greg struggled with wrapping presents. He hated sloppy wrapping and agonised over getting it just right. He knew it was ultimately a silly thing since the paper would just be ripped off and discarded without a second glance, but he believed that half the gift was choosing the perfect something for that someone and then the other half was presenting it nicely. It didn't help that he had thick, clumsy fingers and so there was an equal amount of screwed up paper in a heap next to him from failed attempts as there was actually on the presents.

Mycroft came into the room and had to smile when he took in the sight. Greg was sitting on the floor, surrounded by coloured paper and bits of ribbon, his tongue sticking out slightly, and a look of pure concentration on his face as he tried to make the pattern line up. He walked over to his lover, pulled a cushion off the couch to place on the floor, and settled down next to him. He was holding an iPod with a small portable speaker. 

“What have you got there?” Greg asked, glancing up from his task.

“It’s number 24.”

The older man stopped his wrapping immediately and focused solely on Mycroft. “It is?”

Smiling gently, he hit play and watched nervously as music began. Greg’s eyes grew wide as he listened to the piano instrumental, the feeling and emotion of the piece thrumming through him. It started off almost sad and melancholy, low and quiet, but then it changed suddenly, it became hopeful and positive, and it made Greg’s heart soar. It was raw and pure and absolutely perfect. It quietened into a lull for a few moments, allowing him to get his breath back, but then it soared once more, lifting him with it and making him fly. 

The piece came to an end and Greg was unashamed as he wiped a tear from his face. “That was beautiful. I’ve not heard it before - what’s it called?”

Mycroft shrugged. “I struggled to name it. In the end I settled on ‘Complete’, because that’s what you make me.”

“What? Mycroft, did you  _ write _ this?” Greg couldn’t keep the look of awe off his face.

The younger man blushed. “I did. You inspire me greatly, Gregory.”

“Let me get this right...you  _ composed  _ this amazing fucking song, about _ me _ ?”

“Yes.”

Greg threw himself at Mycroft, capturing him in a fierce kiss. “You brilliant, amazing, wonderful man. I love you so much.”

“And I you. I’d do anything for you, Gregory.”

“Anything?”

“Absolutely anything.”

“Play it again?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The composition of Mycroft's was definitely inspired by this piece by Evening Star.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4iTuhNx--Q  
> I adore it completely.


	25. Christmas Day: Sunday, December 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that traditional advent calendars only have 24 days, but do you really think Mycroft would forget to do something special on Christmas Day? Of course he wouldn't! Merry Christmas!

It was early when Greg woke and he cursed his internal clock. Why was it that when he had to get up for work he would have no problem staying in bed until midday, but when he could actually sleep in, he was wide awake at 5am? He rolled over and scooted closer to Mycroft who was sprawled on his tummy on the far edge of the bed. They usually fell asleep curled around each other but over the course of the night each would migrate to the edge of their side of the bed. 

The younger man murmured in his sleep at the contact and wiggled against Greg. He slipped his arm over his lover’s freckle speckled back and burrowed closer to him, trying to get comfortable so he might fall back asleep. All he managed to do though was wake Mycroft, and the redhead groaned as he rolled over. “What time is it?”

“I believe it’s referred to as ‘fucking stupid o’clock’.”

“That early, huh?”

He kissed the pale arm in front of him. “Yep, that early. Sorry I woke you - go back to sleep.”

“Can’t. Awake now.”

Greg smiled to himself, loving how adorable his partner was when he was sleepy or just waking up. He became much less articulate and could hardly string a sentence together. How he managed to negotiate nuclear treaties (or whatever the fuck it was he actually did) when he hadn’t slept for three days was beyond Greg. But they didn’t appear to be living through a  nuclear winter so he obviously had contingencies in place.

“Did you want to get up?” He thought of everything they had to do before their guests arrived and decided it wasn’t actually a bad thing that he’d woken up.

“I suppose we better. Lots to do.” His lover seemed to be thinking along the same lines. 

Greg rolled away from the warm body of the younger man and out of bed. He pulled on a dressing gown and then knelt on the bed to press a kiss to Mycroft’s forehead. “I’ll go get coffee on.” There was an incoherent mumble in reply and he chuckled as he left the room. As much as he would sleep in during the week if he could, the second his alarm went off he was up and out of bed. Mycroft was the exact opposite and would hit the snooze button numerous times. It drove Greg mental when he was on a day off since he was wide awake by the time the second alarm went off. When it wasn’t his alarm, he could go back to sleep after the first tone, but when the snooze button went off - and then again, and then again - there was no way he was getting back to sleep. He knew that it would take his lover another five or ten minutes to work up to greeting the day so he had more than enough time to visit the bathroom for the essentials and then start a pot of coffee.

They had a light breakfast, knowing they would spend most of the day eating and then Mycroft suggested they open their presents. “You don’t want to wait for the others?”

He shook his head. “I’d prefer to do it in private.”

They moved into the living room where their tree was set up and they both collected two small parcels from beneath it. They sat on the couch and Greg handed over the first gift. “This one isn’t much, but I very much want to see you in it.”

Mycroft unwrapped the paper and took the lid off the box, revealing the lovely blue silk beneath. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”

“I thought it would bring out your eyes,” the DI admitted with a blush.

“I shall think of you every time I wear it,” the younger man told him and gave him a quick kiss. “Which will be often.” He picked up a very thin present which turned out in fact to be an envelope. “This one too is just something small.” 

Greg opened it and gave a little whoop as he saw it was two tickets to the next home match after the Christmas break. “This is awesome! Will you come with me?”

“I can if you really want, but I thought maybe John would be a better companion...he enjoys it more than I.”

Greg nodded and gave his lover a peck on the cheek. It was true - Mycroft had attended several matches with him since they’d been together, wanting to see what the fuss was about, but he didn’t enjoy it overly much. John would appreciate the ticket a lot more. Taking a deep breath, Greg handed over the other gift. He had thought at the time that it was the perfect present but now he was having second thoughts. It seemed almost too personal a gift to buy, but he supposed there was no backing down now. 

Mycroft carefully removed the paper and slipped the display case free. His sat, staring at the gift in his lap, unable to speak.

“Oh, God, you hate it, don’t you?”

He looked up, and Greg was surprised to find tears in his partner’s eyes. “Gregory, this is too much. It’s a Dupont - this is a kingly gift.”

“You deserve to be treated like a king, love. Besides, you seem to breed paperwork so maybe this will help you tackle it.”

“No one has ever put this much thought into a gift for me before. I absolutely adore it.”

His heart ached suddenly for his partner. He had never known such a generous, caring, and singular person before and to hear that he was the first to recognise this...yes, it was an honour to be the one to make Mycroft realise how special he was, but it also hurt that he’d gone so long not knowing. Greg pulled him in for a kiss, trying to communicate through that gesture just how much he meant to him. They spent a few moments afterwards just sitting there, with their foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed.

It was Mycroft who pulled away first, and he swallowed nervously as he handed over the last unwrapped gift. Greg gave him a smile and carefully pulled open the paper to reveal a small, ornate wooden box; the number 25 had been engraved on the front. He undid the clasp on the front and opened the box to reveal a wide gold band, and as he looked up in surprise, Mycroft slid off the couch and sank to his knees. “Gregory, this whole month has been about making sure you didn’t lose your smile to the holiday season. However, I would like to spend the rest of our lives making sure your smile never leaves your face. I love you with all of my heart, and couldn’t imagine a life without you by my side. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down Greg’s face and he slipped off the couch to kneel by his partner. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I love you, Mycroft and nothing would make me happier.” He kissed his fiance, gentle and loving, their tears mixing together on their cheeks. It was a long time before they broke apart, and when they did, both couldn’t stop smiling as Mycroft slid the ring onto Greg’s finger. “Look at us. We’re such sappy gits. When did we become such cry babies?” Greg laughed, and hugged Mycroft hard.

“My secret is out,” Mycroft gasped theatrically. “No take backsies!”

Laughing again, the older man wiped the last of the tears from his partner’s cheeks and kissed him softly. “No chance of that ever happening.” He glanced over at the clock on the wall and groaned. “I suppose we’d better start getting ready for the horde. Do we have champagne to put on ice? I’m sure it’ll be needed after we make the announcement.”

“Have you forgotten who you just agreed to marry?  _ Of course _ I thought of that.”

“True. No idea what I was thinking.” A rather evil idea popped into his mind. “Though, maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to make any announcements.”

One of Mycroft’s lovely eyebrows arched as high as it would go. “What are you proposing?”

“Sherlock’s been a right bastard since he and John got together. I think now that my retort of him not being able to comment on us being in a relationship because he has no idea is moot, he’s been letting fly with everything he’d saved up. But he’s been a bit fuzzy from his new relationship high and not observing as quickly as he normally does. Wanna place bets on how long it takes him to notice this?” He held up his left hand.

Mycroft’s wicked grin was an answer in itself. “The stakes?”

“Winner gets to tie up the loser and have their way with them?”

“That’s doesn’t really encourage winning.”

“I know you’ll win so I wanted a nice consolation prize.”

“Ah, clever.”

“I have my moments.”

“Yes, you do. So, your guess?”

“He won’t notice until well into dinner, but no later than dessert.”

“I believe he’ll notice within fifteen minutes of arrival.”

“Our bets are placed.”

“And it is, as they say, on.”

oOoOo

Greg tied off the knot in the silk restraints. “Cheer up, love. You can’t  _ always _ be right.” Mycroft’s pout was adorable and he kissed it away, then trailed his fingers down his fiance’s pale skin until they found his cock. “Besides, you won the consolation prize,” he said with a grin.

Mycroft moaned as his lover wrapped his large, warm palm around his length and thought that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be wrong every now and then if it made his dear Gregory smile like that.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! All finished :) I do hope you have enjoyed it, and are happy with the final surprise.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me along the way. I shall miss your daily feedback on my writing - I always grinned stupidly when I got my email notification that I had new comments and then usually blushed like a lovesick Mycroft because you're all so sweet ;-)  
> I hope you all have a relaxing and safe holiday season (whatever you celebrate) and I shall see you all very soon I'm sure!


End file.
